


There is Always a Cost

by calliesghost



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 106,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliesghost/pseuds/calliesghost
Summary: Set in modern day NYC, Carol Aird is a well-known instructor of creative writing at Columbia University, a writer, and an artist. Therese is a masters student who becomes intrigued by her new professor.





	1. The Prodigal Daughter Returns

**Chapter 1: The Prodigal Daughter Returns**

  ** _New York City, December 2017_**

 

 

>   _“She was a person you would not be surprised to find sitting by herself in a corner of the world where she didn’t belong, writing things in a notebook to prevent the rise of panic.”_
> 
> _~ Alice Munro_

_~***~_

Therese stood at the gate exit watching the planes come and go. Inside her pocket, she worried a small string into a tight ball. She had to force herself to unclench her fists, to turn around… to leave the bloody airport. She sighed, slung her bag over her shoulder, and slowly made her way to the taxi line. She ran her palms down the seams of her dark green blazer, as if smoothing away the invisible lint of worry. New York was cold this time of year, much colder than D.C. Her silk scarf offered little resistance to the wind as she ducked into the cab and tucked her brown messenger bag under her arm like a nervous child.

“Do you have any other bags, miss?”

Therese started at the intrusion; pulled from her nervous reverie. “Oh, uh, no sir. Just this. Thank you.” She feigned a sweet smile.

The cab driver smiled back at her warmly and closed the door behind him. Therese watched through the fogged window as he shared an awkward moment with a young girl from airport security. She suddenly felt trapped. The cold air had cleared her mind and now she felt stifled, nervous, sweltering. She loosed the scarf and shrugged the blazer from her shoulders and forced her hands to her sides.

“Where to, miss?”

Therese startled again, this time shaking her head as if to clear the cobwebs.

“Are you ok miss? New York winds can be breathtaking this time of year.”

Therese chuckled. “Yes, indeed - breathtaking.” She gazed again through the fogged window, lost in the planes drifting down out of space. Flung out of space. She shivered.

“Miss?”

“Oh yes - of course. I’m sorry.” She fumbled in her pocket for a post-it, even though she had memorized the Tribeca address on Canal Street. She was still hopelessly attached to those post-its.

“Take your time, miss.” The cab driver turned on the radio, and gentle classical music wafted into her ears.

She took a steadying breath, and spoke with a new confidence that betrayed her cracking demeanor. “Actually, would you take me to the Ritz Tower, please?”

He smiled. “Of course. Right away, miss.”

The driver pulled the cab into traffic and Therese leaned her head back against the cool leather seats. She closed her eyes and tried to think of the fastest way to get this whole thing over with. The warm air of the cab lulled her into a gentle sleep, as an instrumental version of _“Silent Night_ ” filled her ears. A bead of nervous sweat trickled down her brow, and visions of Carol filled her mind once again.

~***~

In her dreams now, there is always Carol. When she lived in New York, she never dreamed of Carol. She had no need for dreams when she could turn and stroke Carol’s cheek in the night; lace their hands together. She left New York three years ago with the clothes on her back and a chip on her shoulder. She moved to D.C. and started a career as a journalist for a small NBC affiliate. Finally, six months ago, she joined the ranks as a junior analyst for the politics division.

Carol would never have approved. Journalism, in Carol’s mind, was the weakest form of writing. “Never settle for parroting back the facts of the world to the mindless masses,” she would say. And again, Carol’s warm, low voice filled Therese’s dreamy mind. “If you take what you have been given and throw it away like this, I don’t even know who you are any more.”

After that terse meeting at the Ritz Tower, Therese had downed more than several glasses of bourbon alone at the bar. She smoked like a chimney back then, and she remembered the bartender sliding the stack of matchbooks away from her and handing her a lighter instead, with a soft smile. The ashtray in front of her had been quickly filled with cigarette butts, ashes, matchsticks, and her own tears.

 She used to take the bus back then. She had gone straight back to her tiny studio loft to pack. Therese hadn’t just left her heart in New York on that cold winter night. She had literally left her whole life on Carol’s doorstep. In a large cardboard box meant to house many reams of paper she left a monument of sticky notes, filling it to the brim. Atop the colorful mountain she left the large stack of her writing draft journals wrapped in strings of brown twine. Tucked under the twine she left a pack of matches. On that pack of matches was the stamped emblem of the Ritz Tower.

~***~

Therese woke with a start as the cab slowed to a stop outside of the Ritz. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Her hands were trembling, and she reached into her pocket by habit to palm the post-it notes.

The driver smiled back at her. “Take your time, miss,” he said. “I have to run across the street to the bank right here. Just use the automated kiosk on the back of my seat.” He exited the cab, and Therese was thankful for the moment to gather her wits in peace. She swiped her credit card and left the driver a generous tip. She shrugged the blazer back over her shoulders, took a deep breath, and braced herself against the cold and against the day.

It was the smell of the place that hit her senses first. It was like a electrical charge sent directly to her memory bank, increasing the intensity of her throbbing headache. She made a mental note to find some aspirin in her bag. She remembered one of the first classes she ever took with Professor Aird. Carol had, as was her custom, again brought the class to tears. She sat on the corner of the massive, mahogany desk in the lecture hall, her long legs dangling casually, shoes off. She explained to the young writers that tapping into the senses was the most effective way to deliver cruelty, and that smell was the cruelest sense of them all.

Therese found the bathroom and took three aspirin from her messenger bag. She splashed her face with water and swallowed, allowing the harsh chemical taste of the pills to steady her. She allowed herself to glance at her reflection in the large gold-plated mirror. She thought of what her reflection must have been like staring into this same mirror three years ago. She had been forty pounds heavier and all rounded edges, always in soft baggy sweatshirts and tattered jeans. She raked her fingers through her hair and examined herself more closely. She was all hardened edges now. Her cheekbones were cut like glass, her eyebrows thinner. Dark-rimmed glasses shut out the cold light from her piercing green eyes. The soft light of the ancient bathroom caught her eyes in a different light - less green, more grey. A slight twitch had worried itself into her left eye. She removed her glasses and rubbed her temples, allowing herself one last moment of silent reprieve.

She noticed the landscape had changed as she wandered back towards the bar. Even this old institution had to give up its beloved smokers’ lounge, and that area had been transformed with plush furniture and large, dark, wooden tables. Against the back wall were shelves of books, adjacent to a lengthy self-service bar offering dozens of taps with bright craft beer logos. A loosely organized shelf of board games was placed in the corner where Therese used to sit atop her favorite old stool. The entire area gave off a very misplaced hipster vibe. Therese chuckled. With the exception of the smoking ban, this was exactly the sort of place she would have loved when she lived in New York.

She sat down at one of the smaller tables and a young blonde woman in whitewashed jeans and a simple black apron brought her a coaster and an empty pint glass. Therese shivered as she saw the Ritz logo etched into the glass. “No ashtrays, huh?” Therese inquired nervously.

The blonde laughed. “Oh, I wish,” she said.

Therese spotted her favorite IPA logo on the wall of taps, and she expertly poured herself a pint. She wasn’t quite sure why she had decided to come here. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts, to get some alcohol properly circulating before she headed to the Tribeca art gallery for Carol’s show. To be fair, she wasn’t sure why she had come to New York at all. She took her journal from her messenger bag and started to doodle as she sipped her beer. She was far too fidgety for reading. She allowed her mind to drift back in time as she sketched the outline of the Ritz logo into her journal.


	2. Beginnings

**Chapter 2: Beginnings**

**_August, 2010_ **

> _ “We live and breathe words. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt--I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted--and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.” _
> 
> _ ~ Cassandra Clare  _

~***~

Therese was late for class again. “Fuck, Dannie!” She yelled at her co-worker through the glass partition of the movie theatre. She worked there a few extra shifts a month for spending money. Working there made her nervous. There were too many people. She preferred her regular job at the library, with just her and her books. 

Dannie had his earbuds in, and he didn’t hear her shouting. She knocked vigorously with her fist against the glass, and he sat up with a start. “What is it, Terry?” 

Dannie was a sweet boy. He loved movies more than he loved people. He wanted to be a screenwriter, and she could tell he was currently in the midst of one of his infamous, self-guided tutorials into the minds of the great filmmakers. He was watching  _ Sunset Boulevard _ on his laptop, and in a grid-lined notebook, he was vigorously scribbling his interpretation of the correlation between what the actors say and what they really feel. Therese saw no point to this exercise, but Dannie swore it put him in the mood for writing. He was a hopeless romantic with a soft spot for Therese, but she had made it quite clear that his advances were unwelcome. They had met during a joint writing seminar last semester and became fast friends. 

“Dannie, will you change out these showtimes on the ticker for me, I have to run to class. Like, literally run.” 

His lips curled into a knowing smile. “Of course,” he said. “Go. You wouldn’t want to keep the famous Professor Aird waiting.”

Therese walked behind the glass to the workroom, and playfully cuffed him on the shoulder. “I don’t think she is exactly waiting for me to start the class or anything, Dannie. It’s a lecture hall filled with 300 people.” 

Dannie shut his laptop and glared at her. He watched her in silence as she picked up stray post-it notes from all around her workspace, mindlessly jamming them into her messenger bag. “What?”, she quipped, as she noticed him staring at her. 

“Ok,” he said. “First of all, they make these things called notebooks, where you can keep all your pieces-of-shit writing in one place instead of leaving post-its all over for me to clean up.” Therese laughed. “Secondly,” he continued, “Remember, I had class with Dr. Aird last semester. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. It’s like you’re the only person in the room - like she’s giving a one-on-one writing tutorial in Columbia’s largest lecture hall.” 

Therese shivered. She was always shivering. She finished cramming the last remaining post-its into her jacket pocket. “There’s no way she even knows my name, Dannie. The portfolio I submitted of my work was completely blinded. She wouldn’t even know if my work was by a man or a woman. Stop being ridiculous.” She took three packs of sour patch kids from below the glass counter and left without another word. 

~***~

> _ “It wasn’t love at first sight exactly, but it was familiarity. Something like oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you.”  _
> 
> _ ~ Mhairi McFarlane _

 

Therese completed her bachelor's work in English and Comparative Literature at NYU the previous spring. She transferred to Columbia for her MFA in creative writing mostly for a chance to study under Dr. Aird. Although she was not required to take any undergraduate creative writing courses (her portfolio spoke for itself), Therese was happy to spend her spare time auditing the Professor’s undergraduate writing seminars before her intensive MFA coursework began. 

Therese sneaked into the lecture hall ten minutes after class had begun. Columbia’s Department of English and Comparative Literature was housed in a small, unassuming building adjacent to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Therese took a shortcut through a side hallway to enter the lecture hall midway down the center aisle. She crouched and hurried to a seat behind a large man with a giant laptop, hoping his giant man-bun and computer screen would obscure any direct line of sight between herself and the professor. She was wrong. No such luck. Carol stopped mid-sentence and looked directly at Therese. She may have been mistaken, but Therese thought she saw Carol’s lip turn up in a smirk as she cleaned her glasses on the soft fabric of her skirt before commencing her lecture.

Therese felt suspended in time. Every chance to hear Carol speak was like nourishment to her soul. Dr. Aird spoke for ten minutes past her class time, and not a single person in the lecture hall left before she was finished. No one even moved. When she stopped speaking there was a palpable silence, and then several students started clapping. It wasn’t exactly tradition to clap for your professor after a random lecture on a Tuesday evening. Carol threw her head back and laughed, a deep hearty laugh, and Therese thought she was the most beautiful, most ethereal creature she had ever seen. “Stop it, all of you,” Carol chastised. “I will see you next week.” 

Most of the lecture hall filtered out slowly. Several small groups of students coalesced throughout the room making small talk; making plans for which bar they would go to later that night. Half a dozen students flooded towards Dr. Aird in front of the hall. These were the vultures - waiting to ask non-essential questions and hoping for some one-on-one face time with the Professor. Therese was glued to her chair. She couldn’t pry her eyes from Carol. She watched her greet the vultures affectionately and answer their questions. She watched her nod her head and followed the line of Carol’s jaw with her eyes. A voice was nagging in the back of Therese’s mind telling her to get up and leave; to stop being so conspicuous. Therese sat still as a corpse as the small groups broke up and wandered off and the vultures slowly filtered away. 

Carol didn’t notice Therese sitting there at first, and she let out a sigh as the last of the vultures let the side door close behind them. Therese watched her work. Carol repeated her habit - removing her glasses and rubbing her temples with her eyes squeezed shut. Therese fought the inexplicable urge to sprint to the front of the room and gather Carol in her arms. Therese continued to watch, paralyzed, as Carol leaned over the desk to make a few last minute marks in her notebook. Carol let a shoe slide from her foot, mindlessly allowing the bare foot to scratch up and down the opposite calf. Then she looked up. Blue-grey eyes caught green. Therese gasped audibly; caught red-handed. Carol said nothing. She continued to hold eye contact as the brunette clumsily gathered her post-its and stumbled out of the room.

~***~

Carol Aird was tired, increasingly tired these days. No amount of sleep seemed to revive her; she was sunk into a sort of unhealthy lethargy. Instead of going directly home after she finished her last seminar of the week, she retreated back to her office for a bourbon. She knew she needed to write, and to paint...but lately all she seemed to do was drink. Mostly, she drank alone. Even though she knew her husband was unlikely to be at home, she wanted to avoid any chance of running into him tonight. Hargess Aird was one of the most respected professors in the Department of Chemistry at NYU. When he wasn’t maniacal about his work he was maniacal about Carol, so she was glad he was preoccupied orienting a new batch of post-graduate students to his lab. 

Carol took a brief walk around campus and reached her studio office shortly after nine. She threw her bag onto the couch and poured a double bourbon from a crystal flask near her easel. She lit a cigarette while staring blankly at the dust covers stretched across her canvas. With sudden determination, she set the bourbon on the edge of her desk and whipped the dust cover from her painting to reveal the portrait of a tall lanky brunette to the light for the first time in weeks. 

Her eyes welled with tears as she noted the inconsistent lines in her subject’s clothing, the poor shading, the misshapen shadows. The colors were dusky with no vibrancy. The woman in the portrait stared back at her with deadened eyes. “That’s not Abigail,” she whispered to the empty room. She hastily snatched the bourbon from the desk and took a large gulp, and then viciously splashed the remainder of it against her canvas. The deadened eyes and dusky colors ran down her easel to collect in the paint tray below. And then she cried. Carol Aird didn’t cry.

When Carol finally pried herself off the floor some minutes later, she covered the easel with the dust covers once more and sat behind her large desk. She poured another bourbon; silently chastising herself for wasting from such a fine bottle in a moment of angry rage. She opened her laptop and stared at her latest document - a mess of blurbs and quotes. She mindlessly flipped through her draft journal; seeing only dark strike marks through most of the words, mindless doodles, no coherent paragraphs. Her mind was blank and grey. Her own characters in her story, once beloved and known to her intimately, seemed like dark hollows - unreachable and unknowable. She often told her students that if they find they come back to a story and the characters have become strangers, only then should they scrap the work and start anew. “Your characters are your anchors”, she would say. “Everything else will fall into place around them.” She sighed, then opened her bag to find the portfolio she kept coming back to. Every night she had a late seminar, Carol would come back to her office and take out the same folder, to lose herself again in the writing of a total stranger. 

Carol knew it was ridiculous to think that the green-eyed girl who was always slipping in late to her seminars was possibly the same writer of these brilliant works laid out before her; however, she couldn’t shake the thought from her mind. Looking at the girl, in her baggy sweatshirts and tattered jeans, she felt as if she had known her before - in some other life. It was uncanny. It was unsettling. Despite her creative genius, Carol had always been firmly rooted in reality, but she couldn’t shake her visions of the girl. When she read the pages in the portfolio for the hundredth time, she couldn’t help seeing those green eyes piercing through the words.  

Carol’s trusted graduate assistant Jeanette led the team which screened the portfolios of the MFA applicants each year. Carol would only read the final batch of portfolios, and then chose the lucky students who would train under her watchful eye. This year she had  selected seventeen portfolios. The MFA students would be completing orientation classes as well as some non-departmental prerequisite courses and starting their core curriculum in just a few weeks time. Carol was always nervous to meet the new graduate students. She was more comfortable in front of 300 undergraduates, where everyone was an anonymous face. She always relished these first few weeks free of the burden of directing the impressionable writing careers of the MFA students. This year, she was particularly nervous, because of the one portfolio still hidden in her bag. She knew it was the work of a woman, and she knew in her soul it was the green-eyed girl from the lecture hall. She knew it in her bones.

~***~

Several weeks prior, Carol and Jeanette sat around Carol’s coffee table in her upper west side apartment, portfolios sorted into three piles. There was the always tiny “accepted” pile, a growing “rejected” pile, and the infamous “need a second look” pile. Carol was growing weary. This batch of applicants seemed incredibly weak, and her “accept” pile had only three portfolios; after two solid weeks of screening. Jeanette looked at her disapprovingly over thick wire-rimmed glasses as Carol tossed yet another portfolio into the reject pile. 

Jeanette was a wonderful TA. She had been tirelessly working on the same novel for all seven years Carol had known her. Jeanette’s mousy brown hair was streaked with grey, betraying her at the young age of 29, and she never wore makeup. Carol was unsure if Jeanette owned any clothing that wasn’t pleated pants and button-up cardigans. Carol loved her dearly. She hoped Jeanette would find her wings and fly away soon, but she would be bereft without her help in the classroom.

Jeanette got up to stretch her legs and threw a portfolio into the “second look” pile. “I’m going to grab a beer, do you want anything?” 

Carol looked up from a disappointing short story. She took off her glasses, as was her nervous habit, wiping them against her pants and rubbing her temples. “Yes,” Carol replied. “I need at least two beers if I’m to have any hope of getting through this stack tonight. Is it just me, or is the pool incredibly stagnant this year?” 

Jeanette yelled back from the kitchen. “No, you’re absolutely right - it’s just awful,” she said. “No creativity, and a lot of re-tellings masked as new work. Not a single poet. It’s just abysmal, not to mention really boring.” She returned from the kitchen with three beers. She handed one to Carol, took a long swig from the second, and sat the third in the middle of the “accept” pile. “The person who gets to put another portfolio in that stack gets the third beer.” Carol smiled, picked up her glasses, and got back to work. 

Several hours later the third beer still sat atop the meager stack, sweating onto the portfolios beneath. Carol opened a rather plain brown folder and started to leaf through the contents. She was only on page two of the first work when she stood up suddenly and grabbed the beer from the center of the pile. She rushed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. “What in the world, Carol?!” Jeanette shouted behind her. 

When there was no movement from the bedroom for well over a half hour, Jeanette decided to call it a night. She scratched the Aird’s fluffy cat behind the ears. “Take good care of your mom, Mr. K.” She cooed. She straightened up the piles and left Carol a quick note on her way out. 

Several hours later, Carol had read through the entire portfolio three times and fallen asleep with the folder on her lap. Since that night, the plain brown portfolio never left Carol’s side. It was always in her bag. The edges of the folder had become worn, and certain pages were wrinkled from where Carol’s tears had dried on them. 


	3. Comfort, or Love?

** Chapter 3: Comfort, or Love? **

**_September, 2010_ **

> _ “Are you really happy, or just really comfortable?” _
> 
> _ ~ Unk. _

~***~

Therese met Richard while she was still at NYU two years ago, when they happened to literally bump into each other while trying to wrestle their bicycles from a crowded rack on campus. Richard had finished his Ph.D. work in chemistry and graduated with Therese, but he decided to stay at NYU to try to secure a spot in Dr. Hargess Aird’s laboratory as a post-doctoral fellow. Therese, of course, went across town to Columbia to study with the famous wife of the brilliant chemist. Therese and Richard used to joke that they hoped to one day score invites to the Aird’s famous dinner parties, once they had “made it” to the inner circle.

Richard and Therese lived in the same apartment building, comprised of tiny studio lofts, closer to NYU than to Columbia. Rent was appallingly high, and Richard had asked Therese to move in with him every month for the past year. She always declined. She liked her tiny space, with her cat, and her quiet. She always had fun with Richard, but she had become increasingly annoyed with his attempts to further insert himself into her daily routine. She blamed her nerves, as she was about to start her MFA classes the next week. When he knocked on her door Sunday evening, she seriously considered pretending not to be at home. She knew he wouldn’t leave though, so she begrudgingly shooed the cat from her lap; pulled her tattered robe closer, and walked to the door. Richard had a bag of her favorite Chinese take-out, and a hopeful grin on his face.

“Richard. I can’t hang out tonight, you know my first class is in the morning. I have to meet Dr. Aird. I’m seriously terrified and I need some sleep.”

Richard gave a fake frown - “Come on, Terry,” he whined. “You know you aren’t going to sleep until at least 2 AM, let me come in and we can just eat and then I’ll leave - I promise.”

Therese sighed. She moved aside for him to enter, and he started laying out the food on her small kitchen table. Therese realized she was hungrier than she thought, as she dug into the fried egg rolls. She had already drank more beers that evening than she cared to count. She had gained a significant amount of weight since leaving NYU, but Richard said it made her look more cheerful. He’d say anything to make her smile. She lit a cigarette and cracked the window in the tiny kitchenette. She was silent for a long while, and Richard had moved to the couch with the cat to watch the NYU basketball game. Therese knew he was going to make himself at home. She popped the last of the sweet and sour chicken into her mouth, grabbed another beer from her mini-fridge (which contained only beer), and climbed up to her loft bed. She put in earbuds and drowned out the sound of the game and Richard’s cheering. When she woke at 3 am; Richard was gone. She sat awake, writing by the light of her laptop, until her alarm sounded at 7 and she grabbed her things to finally meet Carol Aird.

~***~

Carol and Harge had not shared a bedroom for almost three years. They hadn’t slept together in nearly four. Yet, every Sunday before a new batch of MFA students began their coursework, Harge was always there for Carol, and she begrudgingly had to admit that it was a comfort to her. It was past 10 PM, and Carol had started to believe Harge wouldn’t be coming through this time. Every time Carol entertained the thought of leaving Harge, visions of her five year old daughter, Rindy, flooded her mind. Rindy was the only reason Carol got out of bed some days. She was the only reason Carol stayed in the house, and she was definitely the only reason she continued her charade of a marriage.

Before turning in for the evening she peeked into Rindy’s bedroom. Already a bookworm at age five, Rindy had fallen asleep with a picture book in her lap. Carol turned off her lamp and returned the book to its shelf, and gently kissed Rindy on the forehead before gathering the blankets around her protectively. Carol returned to the kitchen and finished her glass of wine in a single gulp. She gathered up Mr. K (despite a protesting meow), her draft journal, and - of course - the brown portfolio; and curled up in the guest bedroom of their spacious apartment. She had drifted off while making notes about her remarks to give in the morning, when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in, Harge,” she said softly. He opened the door a crack and light poured in around his shoulders. He seemed smaller somehow. He seemed to Carol to keep getting smaller.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I had a late orientation with a particularly dense post-graduate student. I told him I would fire him if I couldn’t get back to my wife, and any second year Bachelors student could run the experiment for him.” Carol chuckled. She sat up and pulled her robe tightly around her. She patted the bed, motioning for Harge to come sit down. He sat at the corner of the bed, careful not to disturb Mr. K, or make contact with Carol in any way.

“How do the portfolios look for this year?” He asked her this with such sincerity, with such true interest, that it broke her heart.

“Miserable,” she replied. “It’s quite a strange year, really. I really struggled to pick seventeen candidates, and I told the Dean I wouldn’t accept the usual twenty, because it would be doing a disservice to the good Columbia name.”

Harge nodded, a smile curled on his lips. Harge never laughed. Carol’s eye caught the brown folder that had slumped under the covers, and was currently being kneaded by a purring Mr. K. They were both silent for a long time, lost in completely different thoughts, their universes spinning in completely different orbits. “I’m tired, Harge. I need to keep my wits about me for this group.” Carol reached for her light, implying their short time together had come to an end.

Harge smiled. “Of course, my love,” he said. Then he quietly slipped out. Carol took the brown folder and placed it under her pillow before falling into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Carol woke early and made an extra pot of coffee for Harge. It was an uncommon gesture - a thank you. She then called her driver and headed to campus for her weekly coffee date with her best friend Abby. Abigail Gerhard was a woman’s studies professor at Columbia, and had been a part of Carol’s life since they were both ten years old. Abby and Carol were friends, and then later, lovers… and then it changed. Abby and Carol were over long before Harge and Carol were over. Carol had broken Abby’s heart; and it had sent a rift through their friendship that, for a long time, neither thought would ever mend. Part of what brought them back together was Abby’s falling in love. Abby had met a feisty, red-headed restaurant entrepreneur about two years back, and the two of them had just recently adopted a baby girl the previous summer. Carol was overjoyed for her friend, and she loved her goddaughter, Rita, and spoiled her rotten.

Carol walked into the colorful coffee shop attached to the women’s studies building. She spotted Abby sitting in their usual corner booth. If Abby was already there, Carol was definitely running late. Carol glanced down at her watch and cursed. She was losing all sense of time and space these days. She approached Abby with an apologetic smile; and Abby looked up from the stack of essays she was grading.

“My god,” Abby said. “Carol you look like shit.”

“Well thank you, friend,” Carol quipped as she slid into the booth; depositing her messenger bag into the corner with pointed care. Carol poured herself a generous mug of coffee from the carafe on the table. Carol silently chastised herself. She should have known Abby would see right through her. She should have known Abby would pick up on her mental state, and call her out on it. Carol lowered her eyes, took out her notebook, and started jotting meaningless notes. A strong hand reached across the table to cover her own.

“Carol. What is it. I’ve never seen you this way and you’re never late for our meetings.”

Carol sighed and met Abby’s eyes. “Oh, it’s nothing,” Carol hid her gaze, as tears started to form in her eyes. How could Carol explain to Abby what she didn’t even understand herself? How could she say that she was smitten with a student she has never actually spoken to, and smitten with an anonymous portfolio she foolishly believed was from the same student, and that she didn’t even recognize her own reflection in the mirror anymore? The unspoken words were welling up inside Carol like a volcano; threatening to erupt. She wanted to tell Abby that she hadn’t written a meaningful paragraph or made a meaningful brushstroke on canvas for over a month. She ached to confess that she spent more nights drinking alone and sleeping in her office than she spent at home. Instead, she steeled her gaze and glanced up at her friend with mock innocence. Carol opened her mouth and spewed some half-truths.

“I’m exhausted. I am vastly underwhelmed by the MFA candidates for this semester. I have awful writers block and have hit a wall with my painting. Abby - your portrait… I ruined it.”

Abby made an audible tsk tsk and looked at her with true concern in her eyes. “How, why?” she asked.

Carol laughed. “How - with a glass of very expensive bourbon; why - because it was shit, Abby. It didn’t do you justice.”

Abby was silent for a moment, sipping her coffee. When she finally spoke, it was with a soft voice, a genuine concern. “Carol, have you spoken to Genevieve?” When Carol heard the artist’s name, she harshly set down her coffee mug too close to the edge of the table, and it tipped over, coating Abigail’s papers with black. Abby reacted quickly, covering the papers with a stack of napkins. The tears that had be threatening to fall from Carol’s eyes now broke free. Carol gently removed the brown portfolio from her bag, slid it across the table, and excused herself; all without looking up, and rushed to the bathroom.

Carol looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She really did look like shit, Abby was right. She splashed her face with water and hung her head loosely; hunched over the sink. A twitch was evident in her left eye. She nervously rubbed her temples. She took steadying, deep breaths and shook her head at herself in the mirror. She walked back to the table to her best friend; and as she approached the table she saw the contents of her beloved brown folder spread out in front of Abby. Carol felt a sudden need to protect it’s contents, to shield it, to keep it all to herself. Abby was reading intently and had one hand covering her mouth as if mid-gasp. Abby looked up at her as she approached, with genuine concern in her eyes. “It is beautiful writing, Carol; but this is beyond that. The edits you have written here, the added prose, the ….the care. Why are you showing this to me?” Carol shrugged. She didn’t know the answer to that. She just knew she couldn’t bear the weight of this secret alone any longer. And she didn’t even know what the secret was. Carol slid into the booth once more, a perpetual fatigue pressing on her shoulders.

“Why did you ask me about Gen?” Carol finally asked, in almost a whisper.

Abby looked up from the folder, sheepishly. “I just know that her input and critiques of your painting are invaluable. Whatever happened between you…that…just that - I know her opinion still matters to you. You can’t let your past dalliances cloud the importance of your professional relationship.”

Carol chuckled. “Oh, you’re really one to talk when it comes to past ‘dalliances’ with the infamous Miss Cantrell.”

Abby seemed truly taken aback by the comment, and blushed brightly, absentmindedly bringing her hand to her neck. Abby took a large swig of coffee before finally meeting eyes with Carol. “How did you - how did you know about us?”, she asked.

Carol pushed the carafe aside and reached for her friend’s hand across the table, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Oh, Abby. I know exactly how Genevieve likes to mark her women.” Abby tried to pull her hand away, but Carol held on tightly; forcing Abby to meet her gaze once more. “Three deep scratches,” Carol continued; “from the left ear, across the neck, to the opposite shoulder. High enough on the cheek so it can never be totally hidden by a casual scarf - embarrassing enough that you’d try, but erotic enough that part of you wouldn’t want to.”

Abby shook her head and laughed, a nervous laughter Carol recognized from her own defense mechanisms in dealing with issues related to Genevieve. “I don’t make any apologies for the time I spent and the things I did with her,” Abby stated resolutely. “She was exactly what I needed at the time.”

Carol nodded. “She always is. That’s her trademark, just as much as the fingernail scratches.”

Carol was lost in recollection for a moment. Abby closed the folder and resolutely met Carol’s gaze. Carol was the one to shake her away this time, reaching for her coffee instead. Abby gently implored her - “Carol, let Jeanette make the opening remarks and go over the syllabus with the MFA students today. There is no lecture scheduled, there is nothing Jeanette can’t readily handle. You don’t want this to be the face they see, Carol; you’re as fragile as a kitten. I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t the way to start this semester. Let me get you home.” Carol knew she was right. In her own mind, Carol acknowledged the impending sense of doom she felt when she thought about meeting the author behind the brown folder, and she visibly shook with fear and trepidation. As Abby grasped her wrist with one hand and gently wrapped her other arm around Carol’s lower back to steady her and lead her to Abby’s car, Carol finally, silently, let her tears fall freely.


	4. Learning is Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who took the time to read my first 3 chapters, and especially to those who took extra time to comment on the work. I am absolutely thrilled by the reception this little story has been getting. It is, as always, such a pleasure to be a part of this fandom. 
> 
> Please, please (please) comment if you can! I never realized how much it means to the writers to see feedback from their readers until I started writing myself. This really is a labor of love for me and I thank you in advance for your thoughts. 
> 
> Please see additional notes after the chapter re: artworks referenced.

**Chapter 4: Learning is Fun**

_**Fall, 2010** _

> “Some people underestimate how erotic it is to be understood.”
> 
> ~ Mary Krakow
> 
>  
> 
> “A sea of whiskey couldn’t intoxicate me as much as a drop of you.”
> 
> ~ JS Parker

~***~

Therese was relieved when the TA went over the syllabus and greeted the students on the first day. No matter how hard she tried to push thoughts of the professor from her mind, she still felt a tremendous sense of anxiety and trepidation about meeting Carol Aird face-to-face. Since the past summer when she was notified she was accepted to the program, Therese had a recurring thought that there must have been some sort of mistake. They couldn’t have really meant to accept her. She had turned in the portfolio at the last minute, she didn’t even have time to put it together properly. She had just shoved all the essays and stories into a plain brown folder. It was Richard who had encouraged her to apply. She felt a rare sense of joy and appreciation thinking back to that day. Richard really was her biggest cheerleader and her stand-in for self-confidence, which she had never possessed.

The next day, Carol appeared, and in glorious fashion. She wore a dark red skirt with a matching blazer over a creamy beige silk top, and the most ridiculously tall beige stilettos Therese had ever seen. Therese caught herself tracing the lines of Carol’s muscular calves with her eyes as Carol paced back and forth through the aisles of the small classroom. Being this close to the blond literally took her breath away. Her blue eyes shone so brightly Therese swore she would weep if she looked directly into them for too long. 

Carol’s own mind was spinning, being in such close proximity to the brunette. Carol’s beliefs about the owner of the brown folder had been confirmed when Jeanette sent the unmasked names to Carol after orientation the previous day, and Carol rushed online to find “Therese Belivet” in the university ledger. The picture of Therese was different - her hair was much longer now, and in the photo she wasn’t wearing glasses... but it was definitely her girl. She had shivered with anticipation.

Carol didn’t believe in starting gently with her students. There never seemed to be enough class sessions to convey all she wanted, and she knew every moment counted. Carol knew that the best teaching contained a component of theatre, and she chose the order of her lectures with this in mind. She first lectured on writing about pain. She was always asked why she started with such a difficult topic; and her answer was always the same: “Writing pain is easy. Heartbreak, physical pain, emotional distress - you’ll find the words just pour out of you. Writing happiness is hard. Writing about the simple joy of a cup of coffee in the morning, writing about being in the comforting embrace of an old love - that’s hard.”

As Carol was planning her lecture notes the previous evening she wondered at the irony of this. Carol’s life contained absolutely no happiness outside of her interactions with her daughter - only pain, and yet she couldn’t write at all for the past several months. She hadn’t written a single worthy paragraph. 

Carol taught the students that the most effective way to invite the reader into the world of the pain is by tapping into the senses - especially smell. “You want the reader to associate your fictional pain with a real, tangible experience. Make them remember the death of your character when they smell burnt toast in the morning.”

It wasn’t until painful pricks of pain shot up her leg to warn her it was asleep that Therese moved a muscle during Carol’s first lecture. She was riveted, and incredibly moved. She had started by jotting notes, but she quickly abandoned this to focus all of her attention on her professor. Carol’s deep, low voice was mesmerizing and as Therese broke her stare to shake out her legs, she noticed there wasn’t a single dry eye in the classroom.

~***~

Several weeks went by, and Therese was still unabashedly mesmerized by her alluring professor. Her writing had taken on new life and her previously loose, scattered style felt more tightly focused, her prose elevated, her dialogue richer. She had written no less than 30 renditions for the assignment which was due at the end of the week, yet she still felt reluctant and ashamed of the final piece she submitted. Therese never had much confidence in her writing ability, but this was now so much more than that. How could she ever infuse all of the things Carol had taught her into her words? How could she capture the lessons she had already learned and prove to Carol that she was truly transformed as a writer? Even more horrifying was the fact that she would soon be meeting with Carol privately to discuss her work. She spent half the weekend sick with worry and the other half stupidly drunk in an attempt to evade said worry.

She started to regret that particular coping mechanism when she woke up with a pounding headache Monday morning. She pulled the shades in her apartment and fumbled around in the dark trying to find clothes on the floor which were not too dirty to wear. She realized everything smelled like beer, even her socks smelled like beer. She went to her closet to find something clean. The only thing she had was a pair of jeans which were a size too small, not to mention too clean-cut for her liking (that is, not covered in holes and patches). She groaned and struggled into them, lying down on the bed to pull them over her generous thighs and fight the zipper. She had plenty of clean sweatshirts. She pulled one over a plain white t-shirt and ran out the door.

Carol was startled to find Therese was several minutes late to class. She was usually very punctual. Carol had hoped to speak with the girl briefly to let her know she wanted to meet with her today. Carol could no longer wait to explain to Therese how wonderfully and powerfully moved she was by her writing. Carol knew the longer she waited, the more reluctant she would become. She was already consumed with thoughts of Therese, day and night. 

She wished she could say all of these thoughts were of a pure nature, but that would be an egregious lie. Most nights she would find herself in bed, curled up with the brown portfolio and the bright red folder filled with Therese’s new work, and her mind would wander to visions of those enchanting green eyes. Therese had worn a sweater last week which had a wide neck, and Carol had hardly been able to cope - visions of milky skin invading her mind. She would lie in bed and imagine tracing the lines of shoulders and neck with her tongue, nibbling on an ear. Carol’s hands would wander beneath her robe to find herself drenched, simply from her thoughts about the young writer, and as her fingers moved quickly in the dark, it was always the girl’s name softly exhaled at her peak.

Carol had never been one to deny herself pleasures of the flesh, especially when it came to beautiful women, but she knew there was no getting around the boundaries of the teacher-student relationship. It wasn’t just against the rules, it was unethical. Although she initially felt guilty and ashamed of her fantasies about Therese, she ultimately decided that she would allow herself the pleasure of these thoughts, as a sexual relationship could only ever exist inside her mind.

This overwhelming sense of simultaneous lust and despair had paralyzed Carol, and she felt she carried it around with her in the base of her chest like a stone, slowly driving her mad. She physically ached with the realization that Therese would never be hers. She would never be hers to touch, to taste, to feel - to know. She wallowed in it until it filled her and she drowned each night, only to wake the next morning empty again.

~***~

After her lecture was over that day, Carol closed by bringing up the individual reviews. “I’ve only had time to review about 1/3rd of the essays thus far,” she told the class. “I have several other responsibilities to attend to this week, but I’d like to meet with Miss Belivet this afternoon, during my regularly scheduled office hours, and with Mr. Rose, Mr. James, and Miss Lee tomorrow after class. I will work out a schedule to meet with the rest of you very soon, and either Jeanette or I plan to have met with all of you before the end of the week. Thank you for your patience and your understanding with scheduling these impromptu meetings.”

Therese was glued to her seat. Millions of thoughts raced through her mind. “Why me? Why today? Why am I first?” Therese could feel a line of sweat run down the crease of her buttocks, trapped in her too-tight jeans. She didn’t even have time to run back to her apartment to change before the meeting. She resolved to go to the Ritz tower for a bourbon and several smokes. She quickly texted Dannie to meet her and rushed out of the classroom, avoiding the professor’s probing stare.

~***~

While Therese was meeting with Dannie to calm her nerves, Carol chose to calm her own with the same beverage of choice, but alone. In her office, she spread out the contents of both of Therese’s portfolios on her desk. Carol’s delicate handwriting covered the margins as well as separate attached notes. While Therese’s first portfolio had been moving beyond words, her latest work was astonishing. Carol could tell she had really taken her teachings to heart and it was evident the amount of work Therese had poured into her new essay. Therese’s portfolio contained stories about love and loss, an anthology of deeply moving and meticulously executed essays. 

In Carol’s favorite essay; Therese described a lonely housewife trapped in a marriage to an abusive tyrant of a man. Instead of the usual tired analogies for heartbreak, Therese chose to have her main character leave home one day and wander into the frozen woods of northern Wisconsin, never to return. In her story, Therese expertly linked the cold and numbness of the surroundings to the internal turmoil of her character. She brilliantly tore from the character depths of emotion that resonated within Carol’s own soul. Her use of not only the senses, but of nature and the elements as tools for her story indicated a level of mastery Carol had never seen in another MFA student, let alone a student who had just begun her courses.

For Therese’s first assigned work, the young writer had clearly picked up on Carol’s points about how to exploit the senses in drawing emotional responses from the reader. Therese chose to pick up her previous essay, “Woman of Snow,” and she extended and refined it beautifully. Therese described the woman’s first night alone in the woods, her frozen fingers mirroring the pain in her ice-cold heart, the character brilliantly wondering how she could ever thaw now, as ice had penetrated her veins, her mind, her skin. 

As she read, Carol felt as if Therese had reached inside Carol’s life with a mirror and was holding it up, forcing Carol to look - to see. She couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be fundamentally understood in the way Therese understood this woman depicted in her story. How erotic that must be, she thought.

Carol moved on to one final review of the rest of Therese’s work, but her mind wandered as usual. For a brief shining moment, Carol allowed herself the fleeting thought that perhaps, just maybe, those piercing green eyes penetrating right through her own cold skin, those fiery words running like warm water over cold bones, those hands on her face - perhaps that is how she could thaw. Perhaps that is how she could finally light aflame.

~***~

Carol’s office was difficult to find, and Therese offered silent thanks to Dannie for convincing her to leave early for her meeting. In an older part of the English building, Carol occupied a loft space which was reached only by three flights of narrow metal stairs off the end of a back hallway on the top floor. Therese knocked and Carol opened the door in seconds, bright blue eyes meeting green. Therese tried to hide a sharp intake of breath that occurred naturally as she finally found herself in such close proximity to Carol, and she let out a weak cough to conceal her rapid breathing.

“Come in, please, Therese. I’m so happy to finally get a chance to speak with you in person. Can I get you some tea, coffee?”

Therese’s initial thought was to decline, but she decided having something to hold would prevent her from fidgeting or nervously picking the skin around her fingers, as was her habit. “A cup of tea would be nice, thank you Dr. Aird.”

As Carol prepared her tea, Therese took in her surroundings with wonder. Carol’s office smelled of lavender and violets, with just a hint of sandalwood. Dark carpets covered the tile floors and a large, very plush brown leather couch made the room seem warm and inviting. Low bookshelves lined all four walls to knee height, allowing the rest of the wall space to be open for art. Carol had displayed a hodgepodge of work, from nearly every style and era. Renaissance prints hang next to a modern memento mori by David Cahill, which looked like an original. Candid snapshots of a young girl, as well as larger photographic works were scattered on a far wall. Therese immediately recognized several pieces from Carolee Schneemann’s Eye Body Portfolio. She was immediately drawn to them, just as she was recently when several were displayed at MoMA.

Carol watched Therese’s back as she took in the photographs, memorizing the curves, taking a moment of calm to ready herself. “Do you know of Schneemann?” she asked Therese, softly.

Therese jumped as if startled, as if she had forgotten anyone else was in the room. “Oh, yes,” Therese replied. “I’m a huge admirer of her work. Of photography in general. I was told you also paint. Are any of these yours?”

Carol tilted her head and grinned. “No. I couldn’t stand to look at my own work all day. Please, sit.”

Therese took a chair across from Carol, who sat at her desk. Therese recognized her essays and immediately noted all the red marks, and internally she was screaming. “I knew you’d hate it,” she blurted.

Carol looked up, confused. “Hate what, darling?” Therese took a moment to gather herself and she heard Dannie’s voice in her head, chastising yet calming her. “I’m sorry, I just meant - I mean I saw all the marks. I have a problem with liking what I write, I’m never satisfied. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”

Carol set her pencil down and took her glasses off. She leaned back in her chair and observed Therese for a silent moment. The girl was so skittish, so wide-eyed. She looked as if she was going to jump out of her own skin. In usual circumstances, the professor would use that dynamic to her advantage - draw out the silence, steel her demeanor. But now her brow furrowed as she utilized every ounce of restraint she possessed to stop from going to Therese, holding her close, cradling her cheek, feeling her heartbeat pound against her own chest.

Carol sighed. “Therese,” she said, “I have been an instructor here for 12 years. I’ve been writing, and, more importantly, reading since before you were born. I have never in all my time been as uniquely and positively possessed and captured by an essay the way I have been by yours.” 

Therese was legitimately taken aback. She lowered her tea mug to Carol’s desk, trembling. 

Carol continued. “I have many notes to share with you, but that is because I want to help you take what you have done here and elevate it further. I only want to help you, Therese. I hope so dearly that I can offer you guidance in your writing that will in some way equal the debt I feel to you for having been granted the privilege to be your instructor.”

Therese was frozen. Tears were streaming down her cheek and she rubbed at her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Her mind was blank. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe. She tried to  force her brain and lungs to cooperate on a single task - taking a deep breath.  

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her voice was barely audible even to herself over the hum of her heart in her chest, thudding against her temples, causing heat to rise to her face.

Carol saw her tears, but she didn’t reach for a tissue. She stood up and walked to Therese. She knew in her bones she was crossing an internal line, she knew that if she touched Therese’s skin she would never be able to calm that fire again. But she still reached out and grasped Therese’s chin in one hand, forcing her head up to meet her gaze. With her other thumb, she gently wiped the young woman’s tears away. 

Therese felt as if her skin was on fire, her heart threatening to escape her body, her stomach dropping nervously into her seat. 

Too bereft to linger, Carol placed a hand on either arm of Therese’s chair, and kneeled before her. “Don’t be frightened, Therese. You’re going to do this. You’re going to look at these notes, and you’re going to continue to do amazing work, and I will be here every step of the way. When you finish with these notes and changes we can discuss the timeline for submitting this work to the scholarship committee.”

Therese was still speechless. She had earned praise from her instructors before for her work, but this was different. She felt as if every nerve ending was on fire where Carol had touched her face. She felt drunk from her touch, her head swimming from one brush of Carol’s hand. She felt suddenly faint, intoxicated more by the woman in front of her than by the two lunchtime bourbons. She felt a desire burn in her heart not only to continue to be in Carol’s presence, but also to write - to write, and write, and write. Everything else started to crumble away - Richard, Dannie, her jobs….breathing. 

Carol sensed that Therese was overwhelmed and moved away from her, quieting the beating of her own heart which was pounding rapidly in her ears. Carol picked up the papers and handed them to Therese, who took them and looked up at her with those big, watery, green eyes. Her tears had illuminated them, and they pierced through Carol causing her to shiver. Abruptly and without thinking, Carol asked Therese on her way out the door - “will you come see me tomorrow?”

Therese stopped at the door, turned, and met her gaze once more. “Yes. Yes I will.”

__________________________________________________________

Works referenced in this chapter:

http://www.crunchypencil.com/art/gallery/viewer_stilllife.php?directory=.¤tPic=2

http://www.caroleeschneemann.com/

 


	5. It's My Party, and I'll Cry if I Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and especially to those who commented on the previous chapter. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. As it is a work in progress, I continue to appreciate hearing your thoughts, your input has been insightful and very valuable to me!

** Chapter 5: It’s My Party, and I’ll Cry if I Want To **

**_Winter, 2010_  **

 

 

> _“You think when you reach a certain age things will start making sense, and you find out that you are just as lost as you were before. I suppose that's what damnation is. The pieces of your life never to come together, just splashed out there.”_  
>  _~ Knight of Cups_

 

After Therese met with Carol, she had planned to stay up all night writing so she would have something new to show her the next day. Her best laid plans were foiled; however, when she got back to her apartment. She was so exhausted she fell asleep on the couch and didn’t wake until almost 10 PM when Richard knocked on her door. She startled at the sound. She was suddenly and inexplicably full of rage towards the poor man. She knew in her heart he hadn’t done anything wrong, but her mind was so preoccupied with writing, and with Carol, she literally didn’t have room for Richard - in her thoughts or her life. She had recently been very wary of his optimistic humor; his well-intended praise and support was rubbing her the wrong way. She knew this had been brewing for weeks, but she didn’t have the strength, the mind space, nor the willpower to dedicate to it tonight. Therese’s mother had always told her that procrastination was one of her top three most exercised personality traits; which was very true. Therese decided to exercise procrastination tonight and deal with the whole “Richard Problem” later. Plus, maybe he brought Chinese food.

She opened the door to a very exhausted looking boyfriend. “Shit, Richard, you look like hell.”

“Thanks, Terry- I feel like it,” he said, as he plodded past her and plopped onto the couch. She noticed that he was wearing just his slippers and robe, and his boxer shorts - which were on backwards. She sat down next to him on the couch and silently chastised herself for entertaining the thought of breaking up with him tonight. He looked as if a strong breeze would crack him in two. She reluctantly but purposefully placed a hand on his shoulder while he cradled his head in his hands. “What’s up, Richard?”

He sighed heavily and turned to her. “It’s work. Dr. Aird doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m stupid - and Terry - I’m starting to believe him. I don’t think I’m cut out for this. These other post-grads, they’re so brilliant. It takes them like five minutes to plot out their experiments. It takes me five minutes to write down all the words I need to look up before I can start even beginning to plot out the experiments. None of them speak English as a first language, and I know they are all talking about me behind my back in Chinese or whatever.”

Therese sighed. She felt for him. She knew what it was like to feel inferior to her peers- she spent her entire high school and undergraduate years feeling the exact same way. “Richard, you don’t have anything to prove to them, you just have to do this for yourself and for Dr. Aird. I’m sure he would meet with you if you asked him, maybe you just need a few tutorials and you’ll be back on track. I don’t think you should give up; the semester just started. Besides, you’re a great TA for the undergraduates - you just have to wait and see what happens. Give it time.” Therese startled herself with how sincere she sounded; then she subsequently felt a wave of guilt over the fact that she knew, deep down, she didn’t give a shit about Richard’s job. He smiled at her. That was all it took - a few words of encouragement and the happy-go-lucky puppy dog was back.

“Thanks, Terry,” he said. Hey - the reason I came over - other than to kiss on you, of course,” he smirked; another wave of nausea from Therese, and she looked away as he continued. “I was hoping you’d be free tomorrow night. Dr. Aird said he and his wife are having a dinner party at his house to welcome us, the new fellows. I don’t think I can face him alone; not to mention his wife. She seems like stone cold scary bitch based on what I’ve heard from you.” Therese was shocked, and glad she had looked away so Richard didn’t see her widening eyes. She hadn’t expected to have to interact with Carol outside of work this soon. She needed some time. She couldn’t even control her own breathing when she thought about the woman, let alone see her, in her home, with her husband….in party attire….her mind wandered to what Carol might wear…what she would look like when she sipped a glass of wine, her lipstick marks on the glass…. “….Terry?”

Therese jumped. “Oh, sorry Richard, I was just thinking - it will be little- a little weird to see the ‘other’ Dr. Aird outside of class but I’m sure it will be fine. Plus, this means we’ve ‘made it,’ right?”

He smiled up at her with bright brown eyes. “Yeah. You’re right. Thank you babe. I love you so much. I’m so glad you’ll be there by my side.” “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

~***~

Carol returned form work late that evening, and went straight to bed. She was fidgety, and full of anxiety. She had stayed up late drinking alone in her office, trying to erase the meeting with Therese from her mind - but she couldn’t stop thinking of her. It was slowly driving her mad. She had tried to paint, but ended up making very little progress on what turned out looking like a darker, more abstract version of Fuseli’s “The Nightmare.” She couldn’t erase the feeling of Therese’s face on her fingers. She rubbed her own fingers on her face, thought of Therese’s lips there, her hot breath in her ear. Her hands wandered to caress her breast; but she didn’t get any further before she fell into a fitful, drunken sleep.

Carol was awakened at dawn by a very cheerful, very loud little daughter. Rindy jumped on top of the covers, sending Mr. K scattering with a hiss. “Momma, momma!” she cried. “You have to get up now, Daddy says tonight we get to have a party! I want to wear my new red dress!”

Carol opened one eye, the other was matted shut - were they tears? She groaned - “My dear, sweet little one.” She lifted the covers and grabbed Rindy with a strong arm, sheltering her underneath, curling her against her body. Rindy giggled. “We have to stay under the covers, sweet girl,” Carol chided, “It’s too cold and too early to get up. And what’s all this about a party, Daddy didn’t tell me anything about this.”

Rindy was too fidgety to relax, whipping the covers off and staring her mother directly in the face. Carol noticed how much her daughter looked like herself, around the eyes; the same piercing blue. “Daddy says he decided last minute because he has to go out of town for the rest of the week.” Carol tried to remain positive for her daughter, but she was growing weary of Harge’s parties. She decided she would try to get out of it by telling Harge she already made plans with Abby.

“Ok, sweet pea. I’ll talk to Daddy, but no matter what - I promise you can wear your red dress tonight.” Rindy squealed and jumped off the bed. She picked poor Mr. K up clumsily and ran from the room to look for Harge. Carol groaned and pulled the covers back over her head, sincerely regretting that last bourbon from the night before.

Several hours later, Carol emerged from her room to the smell of coffee. She had hoped Harge had already left for work, but he was sitting at the kitchen table, coloring with Rindy. She plopped down next to him and poured herself a large cup of coffee. Rindy started giggling at her. Carol looked at her daughter and asked, playfully - “what’s so funny, sweet pea?”

“Mommy! your hair! you look like you got electrocuted!” Carol and Harge both laughed. Harge never laughed. It felt good in that moment, sitting there with them.

“I think Mommy had a rough night,” Harge said, “so let’s be kind to her. Did you tell Mommy about the party?”

“She did,” Carol said, reluctantly. “Harge, I can’t possibly play hostess tonight on such late notice. I have plans with Abby, I made them weeks ago.” Harge looked at her disapprovingly. He had a way of looking at her which made her feel so small, so insignificant. So unworthy.

“Carol, you know I would appreciate your support with these post-grads. Especially since I told you I have one that’s dumb as a box of rocks. I need you here to prevent me from slapping him silly once I have a few drinks in me.” Carol winced at the language he used in front of Rindy. Thinking of Rindy alone with him at the party made her reconsider.

“Ok, Harge. I’ll ask if Abby and Louise can bring Rita over here instead. Rindy, could you help me babysit Rita?”

Rindy beamed. “Of course mommy! I’m the best babysitter. I want to dress her in red too.”

“Well. That’s that,” Carol sighed.

~***~

Therese was saddened to see Jeanette in class when she arrived that afternoon. She felt a moment of regret about this emotion - Jeanette was awesome. She just wasn’t Carol. Jeanette came up to Therese before class - “Hey Therese!” Jeanette was always a little too bubbly for her own good. Just like Richard. Maybe they could hook up. Jeanette continued - “Carol wanted me to let you know she won’t be able to meet with you today after class, her husband is throwing a dinner party and she needs to help with the arrangements. She said she’ll find you after class tomorrow to reschedule.”

Therese was torn. She didn’t want to surprise Carol by showing up at her house tonight. She had planned on telling Carol this afternoon that she would be accompanying Richard to her party. Therese put on a fake air of nonchalance. “That’s no problem, Jeanette. Thanks for letting me know.” Therese had trouble focusing in class, she was suddenly very nervous about the party; and she hadn’t slept for more than an hour last night because she had been up writing. She ducked out of class a few minutes early to get ready for the dinner.

Therese had one dress that fit her well and actually flattered her curves. It was a simple, navy blue silk with a delicate brown leather belt that accentuated her thinner upper waist. She made sure it was clean and dug her navy flats out of the bottom of her closet. She ran a brush through her hair and applied makeup for the first time in months. Richard had made a shocked face at her when she answered the door, and he whistled. She slapped him playfully on the shoulder on their way out the door.

~***~

Harge and Carol’s apartment occupied a whole floor of the building. When they knocked on the door, two very excited young girls opened it for them, both wearing red princess dresses. Therese smiled at picked out which was Carol’s daughter right away; and not just from the candid photos she had seen in Carol’s office - the young girl had Carol’s eyes; the same bright periwinkle that shot daggers and would undoubtedly break hearts. The other girl was younger, and had bright red hair. “Welcome, I’m Rindy. Won’t you please come in,” the young girl bowed slightly, allowing her guests to pass.

“Why thank you, young ladies,” Richard said.

The entrance foyer opened up into a larger living area. It was by far the largest apartment Therese had ever seen inside the city limits. The walls were painted a deep burnt orange and a fire burned in the corner under an elaborate antique fireplace. Family photos were on the walls in the entrance foyer, but the living area boasted several large works of art that Therese recognized as Carol’s own paintings, from her website. One was an elaborate seaside landscape featuring a woman with brown hair looking out towards the ocean, hair blowing in the breeze. Therese’s eyes continued to work their way around the room, in awe. She felt a familiar sense of longing and warmth that she had felt when she first saw Carol’s office, and it was no less confusing than the first time she felt it.

“Wow.” Richard’s brief commentary jostled Therese from her silent contemplation. “This place is sick. I’m gonna go get some free drinks babe, what do you want?” Therese still couldn’t peel her eyes away from the paintings.

“Wine would be fine,” she replied, absentmindedly. Richard went in search of booze and appetizers, and Therese took the time to examine the paintings more closely.

She started at the seaside landscape and began to work her way slowly around the room; tilting her head to the side and examining the deep colors and intricate brushstrokes in each work. She finished looking over the last painting in the corner and looked up. There, in the corner of the room, with her back turned, was Carol. Therese couldn’t see her face, but she knew it was her. She knew those legs, those curves, that hair. Carol was wearing an exquisite black dress with an open back, tight material cupping and accentuating her ass before dropping to the floor. She had her matching signature heels, but these had black laces that ran up the back of her ankles, further accentuating the curve of her muscular legs and making her appear impossibly tall. As her eyes traced Carol’s form from ankle to waist, she unconsciously took a step back as she held her breath; and she accidentally backed into the stand next to the fireplace which held the fire pokers; sending it clattering loudly to the ground.

Everyone, including Carol, turned to look for the cause of commotion. When she saw Therese, Carol’s eyes widened and she placed a hand to her chest. She squinted a bit; as if she couldn’t tell if Therese was real or only a mirage. Carol’s mind was racing. She hadn’t at all emotionally prepared herself to see Therese tonight. She had already had too much to drink… What on earth was she doing here? She must have come with one of Harge’s fellows. Carol felt suddenly dizzy and her mouth was so dry she felt as if she were standing in a desert. She met Therese’s eyes once more, drinking her in; allowing herself to take in the sight before her. Therese wore a simple dress, but it fit her beautifully. Carol wondered why Therese always wore those baggy jeans and sweatshirts, when she was hiding such beautiful curves underneath. She allowed her eyes to unabashedly trace Therese’s form, from feet to waist, waist to breasts, breasts to jaw. When she again met Therese’s gaze, Carol’s lips turned up into a smirk and Therese beamed a dimpled smile right back.

The two of them stood silently, neither moved. They just kept staring at one another from across the room. They were both stuck in time; nothing else mattered except their eyes on each other. Therese felt the noise of the entire room was sucked away, like a vacuum, leaving only the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. This was now the second time that Carol’s presence had this tangible, physiological effect on her. It was in part unsettling; but the warmth Therese felt was a welcoming sensation - a warmth that started at the base of her neck and slowly spread south; and it happened every time Carol looked at her with those piercing blue eyes. Therese certainly didn’t understand it all; but she understood enough to know that it was something she wanted to keep experiencing, as much as possible - as often as possible. She couldn’t help but wonder what that feeling could be if she just stepped closer, if she touched Carol’s cheek; how it could grow, and expand, and consume her; like the fire she had literally almost fallen into.

The moment was broken when Richard returned to Therese’s side with a glass of wine in one hand and a beer in the other. He slapped Therese on the butt, playfully; but the sight of this gesture made a ferocious anger and protectiveness roar up inside of Carol, and a jerk of her head showed her displeasure. Therese was fuming. “Richard, this isn’t the kind of event where you just slap my ass in the middle of the living room, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Richard giggled and Therese noticed a crumb dangling from the side of his mouth. He was an idiot. Coming here was a mistake. Therese tried to think of an excuse that was good enough to allow them to leave before dinner was even served. She wanted to be with Carol, alone, and something told her she never wanted Richard and Carol to meet - ever.

“Fuck, she’s coming over here,” Richard noted. Carol was indeed slowing walking towards them, the smirk on her face was gone; replaced with an air of something else - was it confusion?

When she spoke, her warm, low voice brought Therese straight back to her favorite warm feeling. “Therese, I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here tonight. I thought I would have to endure an entire evening with chemists; something tells me you may understand how perfectly dreary that can be,” she said, nodding towards Richard. Richard was too dense to take that as a personal offense, which Carol had clearly meant. He held out his hand and shook Carol’s, introducing himself. Therese stared down at their hands as they met; wishing it was her own delicate hand in Carol’s, slipping a thumb across warm skin, inviting the fire inside. Carol narrowed her eyes as she looked at Richard, trying to place a feeling of recognition, when she remembered - Richard, of course. The fellow Harge had called “dumb as a box of rocks,” and some other choice phrases. What was Therese doing with this loaf? Carol fought a consuming urge to grab Therese’s hand and steal her away; put an arm around her shoulder and protect her from everything cruel in the whole world. For the first time, Carol felt not only attraction and desire for Therese, she felt compassion, and a fierce urge to protect her. Therese could sense Carol’s distaste, she could feel it in the air around them, in the way Carol held her shoulders, in the way she looked at him. Therese knew for sure she wasn’t just projecting; she definitely wasn’t just imaging it.

Harge entered the living room and Therese turned to look at him. He was handsome, and very well-dressed in a navy tailored suit. He had a full, thick head of hair and was clean-shaven. He had an almost boyish face for an older man, with rounded cheeks which Therese recognized as being similar to Rindy’s. He spoke in a tone of voice almost equal in pitch to Carol’s, and announced that dinner had been served. Carol and Harge occupied the center of the large table, across from each other; so Harge could speak to all of the fellows and guests. Carol was sitting directly across from Therese and Therese had to consciously remind herself to look away from the blonde every few minutes as the monotonous conversation droned on. Therese was mesmerized by everything Carol did. The way Carol held a fork, the way Carol sipped her wine- slightly out of the side of her mouth, the way Carol lit a cigarette and left a line of bright lipstick on the filter - Therese could watch her for hours; as if in a trance. She barely ate anything at all.

The conversation drifted to the fellows’ guests and Harge asked Richard about Therese. “Therese is a beautiful name,” Harge said, and out of the corner of her eye Therese saw Carol cough as she sipped her wine, and furrow her brow. “What do you do, Therese,” Harge asked.

Richard hastily interjected for her - “Oh, Terry calls herself a writer these days,” he said with a snort.

Carol had had enough. She set her wine glass down with a force that made several people at the table jump in surprise. Carol cleared her throat and spoke up. “Therese is one of my MFA students at Columbia. I can speak for the fact that she does much more than ‘call herself a writer.’ She writes beautifully; she has an incredible talent.” Richard’s eyes were wide. Therese lowered her eyes to the table. This is so embarrassing, she thought to herself. I can’t believe I came here.

Carol’s mind was racing. She had spent the entire dinner thus far deliberately avoiding Therese’s gaze, because she knew it would crumble her resolve and she’d never be able to tear her eyes away; but she could feel Therese watching her. Carol was so full of rage towards Richard that she couldn’t even think straight. She couldn’t find all the words she wanted to say about Therese, but she also didn’t want to let on exactly how smitten she was. She felt a wave of regret - before she had opened her big mouth, Harge didn’t even know Therese was Carol’s student. She could have kept everything more hidden, more her own, protected. But she couldn’t let Richard trample on Therese. The protective beast in Carol had been awakened and had reared it’s ugly head, and there was no taming it back into its cage.

The guests had nodded their acknowledgement of Carol’s interjection, but as typical scientists tend to do, they had quickly turned the conversation back to chemistry. Therese gathered herself enough to gaze back up at Carol, but this time Therese found Carol staring straight back at her; her blue eyes colored with something new - a fierce, darker, grey tone; pupils wide. “Thank you,” Therese mouthed silently. Carol just nodded and pried her eyes away once more. As Carol glanced down the table, she noticed Abby looking directly at her, knowingly shaking her head. Carol averted her eyes; avoiding her friend’s gaze. This dinner had turned out to be much more eventful and stressful than Carol had ever imagined anything involving Harge’s coworkers could be.

Richard started to get louder, which was always a sign he had too much to drink. As some of the other guests started to file out, Therese saw her window to escape before any further assaults to her dignity could take place. She whispered in Richard’s ear and they both stood from the table. Carol had long since left the dining area and was sitting in the living area with Rindy; reading to her. Rindy had changed from her red dress into red pajamas. Therese beamed a smile when she saw the scene before her; a wave of compassion and underneath it - that same warm flame. Carol looked up as Therese and Richard moved towards the door, Therese had a hand on Richard’s back to steady him. Carol started to get up to say goodbye, but Therese stopped her. “No, no,” she said. “Don’t interrupt story time on my account. Thank you, Carol, for a wonderful evening.” Carol shook her head and stood up anyway.

Richard stepped out to hail a cab and Carol drew Therese into a warm hug. Therese was almost paralyzed and she didn’t know what to do with her arms, until she felt Carol’s hair against her cheek. Then Therese wrapped her arms tightly around the taller woman’s lower back and squeezed, tightly. She didn’t want to ever let her go. Carol turned to face Therese’s ear and whispered, “please come see me in my office tomorrow, darling. I need to see you.” Therese could only nod; for she feared if she spoke her voice would crack and she would release a whimper.

On the way home, Richard fell asleep in the cab, and Therese was left with her thoughts. She thought about the way Carol spoke up for her, she thought about Carol’s paintings, Carol’s dress; she thought about the way Carol had watched her at dinner; those eyes. But, most of all, she thought of Carol’s breath on her cheek, her arms across her shoulders. She thought about that warm feeling that coursed through her anytime blue eyes met her own. Therese suddenly gasped with a recognition, bringing a hand to her mouth. She was being so blind before, but this feeling - she knew she wanted to make Carol proud. She knew she wanted Carol to like her. She knew she wanted Carol to like her writing; and she knew she wanted to emulate Carol. But; suddenly, she could see that wasn’t all - she _wanted_ Carol. She wanted _all_  of Carol. As she finally acknowledged it to herself, she felt the warm feeling spread from the base of her skull, this time settling firmly and insistently between her thighs. “Well, fuck,” she said out loud, to no one, as she climbed out of the cab; leaving Richard to fend for himself.

~***~

The guests had slowly filtered out and Rindy and Rita had long fallen asleep; curled up together in Rindy’s bed. Harge had retreated to the master bedroom to read, and Carol and Abby were left alone in the den. Carol had taken the opportunity to ditch her dress and wore her favorite tattered plaid robe. Abby had changed into a white t-shirt and boxers. Both were nursing glasses of bourbon by the fire. Abby finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “So, you want to tell me about her?”

Carol choked a little on her bourbon. “Who, Therese? She’s my student, one of the incoming MFAs.”

Abby took the bourbon from Carol’s hand and set both of their drinks on the table. “And…?” She prodded.

Carol chuckled. “And, she was being demeaned by that ape of a man and I wouldn’t tolerate it. Not in my home. She’s quite talented.” Abby just shook her head. “What?,” Carol pried.

Abby sighed. “That’s her isn’t it. The brown folder.” Carol said nothing, she just picked up her bourbon and focused into it as if trying to find something at the bottom of her glass.

Abby continued, “you don’t have to answer, it’s something I just know. I saw the way you looked at her. I know that look. I know that look because that’s the way you used to look at me.” Carol absentmindedly brought a hand to rub her temple. She closed her eyes, and a single tear ran down her cheek. Abby grasped Carol’s knee with both of her hands and Carol met her gaze. “Carol, you’re my best friend. I didn’t mean that to hurt you, I just meant…she’s human, Carol. And that gaze, that penetrating stare is a magnet she will not elude. She will crumble to you, my dear. It’s only a matter of time before” -

Carol stopped her with a finger to her lips. “I know, Abby. I know.”

They sat in silence for some time, sipping their drinks. It was Abby who again broke through the silence. “Carol. You know you can’t…”

Another awkward pause as Abby searched for the words; and Carol choked back a sob. “I know. Oh, but Abby. How can I not? I’ve only just met her and already I’m completely dismantled. I cannot go on like this. Something is going to have to break, and I’m starting to realize that if it isn’t my will to resist her that breaks; it will be my own self that will shatter instead. That’s the ultimatum.” Abby disposed them of their drinks once again and moved to put her arm gently around Carol’s shoulders. Carol leaned into her neck and sobbed.


	6. Happiness is a Blessing, and a Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello! I have been super busy with like, adult responsibilities, which is dull. BUT - I have this shorter chapter to give you, and I hope you like it. I am really excited with where this story is going, and I continue to be grateful for your comments and your support. 
> 
> If you ever have any other questions or comments to share, you can also find me on Tumblr @ calliesghost 
> 
> Also, I have been working on a playlist for this story. At first I thought there would only be a few songs - but as I continue to write, I continue to draw inspiration from the list I created when I plotted out the story. If anyone is interested, I can start adding some of those songs along with the quotes I have included, which also inspire some of the chapters and titles. 
> 
> Things are getting real pretty fast, but please stick around. I promise that the ultimate plan I have for these ladies will be worth it. All of it. ;)

** Chapter 6: Happiness is a Blessing, and a Curse **

**_Winter, 2010_ **

 

> _“The biggest curse in life is not losing your love, but not being loved by someone you love.”_  
>  _~ Kiran Joshi_
> 
>   
>  _“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”_  
>  _~ Ernest Hemmingway_
> 
>   
>  _“A person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.”_  
>  _~ Tom Bodett_

 

Therese woke the morning after the party filled with determination. Her revelation in the cab the night before had steeled her reserve. Even if she took her relentless desire for Carol out of the picture altogether, she still didn’t see a place for Richard in her life. His mannerisms, his childish behavior, and his immaturity just didn’t fit with the person Therese was becoming. And she really did feel that she was coming into herself, finally; at age 26 she was finally becoming the person and the writer she had always dreamed she would be. She did feel sorry for him, because she knew how strong his feelings were for her. She realized that, for a long time, she was staying with him solely because she didn’t want to break his heart.

That next day in class, she couldn’t help but wonder if Carol had chosen her lecture because of Therese’s situation. She had talked a bit about writing relationships in turmoil, and had gone off on a tangent about self-care and self-preservation. Carol generally avoided eye contact with Therese during class, but this time it was as if she was looking straight at her, daring her to defy the wisdom she was presenting. Carol’s piercing glare seemed to penetrate right through Therese as she said: “What does it matter if you prevent someone else’s pain, but slowly let your own soul die in the process?”

Therese didn’t stick around after class that day and Carol thought for sure she had gone too far with her lecture and had pissed her off. But that wasn’t the case. Therese had promptly gone back to her apartment building and went to Richard’s studio. What transpired there had not been pretty. Richard raged and yelled and stormed around the small space. He never hit Therese or threatened her, that wasn’t his nature. He was just broken, and horribly sad. He didn’t understand where this was coming from, and Therese was at a loss to really explain it well, since she didn’t understand it completely herself. She made sure to try to put the blame entirely on herself, but that didn’t seem to help. Richard didn’t want to cry in front of Therese, and she sensed he was losing his cool; so she slipped out the door when he excused himself to go to the bathroom. She felt truly awful, but that feeling was slowly and surely being replaced by a feeling of relief, which grew with each step she took away from his door.

Three hours later Dannie pulled into the parking deck of Therese and Richard’s building. He was carrying grocery bags, one had two generous wine boxes and the other had 2 large containers of ice cream from Therese's’ favorite local shop. He knocked on Therese’s door and she opened it with a smile when she saw him. “Wow, Therese. Not exactly the demeanor I expected to see from a heartbreaker.”

Therese scowled - “don’t say that.” Dannie slid inside the door and into the kitchenette area.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly, I am. I didn’t even know you and Richard were having problems; you never said anything.” Therese felt a wave of guilt, and shame, for having to break Richard’s heart. She knew her reasons were selfish. But she stood by them. She wanted no one but Carol. She wanted no clouding of her mind, her heart, her words, her work.

Dannie revealed the two boxes of wine and Therese beamed, “box wine!” she exclaimed. “Dannie, what have I done to deserve this trip down memory lane?”

Dannie laughed. “Don’t read into it,” he said. “I’m too poor to afford expensive shit when I know how much you’re going to need to drink tonight. I even brought solo cups so we could reminisce about how close we came to dying in high school.”

Therese poured herself a glass of wine and got some bowls from her small cupboard for the ice cream. She felt suddenly free, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew she could trust Dannie. She needed to tell someone. “I think I’m falling in love with her, Dannie.”

Dannie looked up quickly. “What? her who?” Therese just looked at him pointedly until recognition set it. “Carol Aird?! Are you serious? She’s married Therese, and I believe she’s straight….wait….aren’t you straight?”

Therese looked down at her wine in the plastic cup. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

“Well shit,” Dannie said, as he removed the bag from the box of wine and took a swig directly from the tap. “We may need more wine for this.”

~***~

For several weeks, Therese had been meeting with Carol daily. She would come to her office and sit on the plush leather couch and write. Carol would be at her desk working, and sometimes she would be at her easel, painting. When Carol painted, Therese became lost watching her work; the way she would bite her lip when she was outlining a particularly difficult or thin line; the way she nervously drummed the back of her paintbrush against the tray when she was unhappy with the way something was turning out.

Carol gave Therese notes on her work nearly every day; and she helped Therese stay on track with her submissions for the scholarship. She had even convinced Therese to submit the portfolio to the Young Writers Guild. Therese didn’t think she’d be ready in time, with all the different pieces that were required, but the fact that Carol thought she could do it spurred her on. She was blossoming, and Carol watched it all happening with delight. As for Carol, she was painting again. And painting well. Both women had settled into a comfortable happiness, and while both still looked at each other with a flaming desire, there was a part of both of them that didn’t want to upset the delicate, beautiful relationship they were already creating.

On one sunny afternoon, Therese was at her usual spot on the couch and Carol was looking over a recent draft of the non-fiction essay Therese wanted to submit. Suddenly Carol looked up from the work and laughed. “Oh for the love of…” she trailed off. Therese looked up to see that Carol’s forearms were both hopelessly covered in post-its that had come off her notebook, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, make sure you put those back where they came from,” she teased.

Carol just shook her head and looked helplessly at her young protege. “Ok, Therese. It’s been a few weeks now and I must know. What the fuck is the deal with the post-its. You couldn’t use a notebook, or a laptop like a normal human being?”

Therese adopted a feigned air of being offended. “Listen, Carol,” she joked. “I don’t expect everyone to understand my genius methodology. I’ll let you in on the secret, but you have to promise not to spread it around, this is proprietary information here.”

Carol saluted her, “scout’s honor,” she said.

Therese continued. "So, post-its are great because you just jot pieces of the story on each one, and instead of crossing things out or deleting them to rearrange the pieces, you just literally rearrange them! And if you find a piece that you’ve moved so many times it becomes un-sticky, that means it’s probably no good and you should trash it.”

Carol reluctantly had to admit that this strategy wasn’t completely ridiculous, and of all the things she was working on with Therese, paragraph structuring wasn’t one of them. “Well what does that say about the tidbits on my arms then,” she asked.

“Well those probably suck, let’s trash them,” Therese beamed at her with her dimpled grin.

Carol let out a deep throaty laugh and - without thinking - “you’re adorable.” The smile on Therese’s face turned to a deep blush and she looked away. They both went silently back to their work.

~***~

The next afternoon when Carol stood silently at her easel, Therese gathered her courage and walked up behind Carol while she was painting. This new painting had captivated Therese, it was another beach scene, but this had only a small girl carrying an umbrella, and a storm was developing out over the water. Therese was fascinated by Carol’s technique and wanted to get closer. Carol had furrowed her brow as she worked grey brushstrokes into the storm clouds. Therese instinctively placed her hand over Carol’s own as she painted. Carol didn’t jump, or pull away. A slight smile tugged at the corner of Carol’s lips, as she allowed Therese to paint with her.

After a moment, Carol shifted places with Therese. She handed Therese the brush and stepped behind her; placing one hand on Therese’s waist and the other on her shoulder, and nodded - as if to say, go on. Therese beamed and started making her own clouds. She may have been dreaming it, but she thought she felt Carol’s fingers tighten on her lower back and she let out a gentle sigh. “Relax,” Carol instructed, her fingers definitely now trailing deftly down Therese’s spine.

“Impossible,” Therese replied.

Carol broke away and went to pour herself some tea, her mind was racing and her heart jumping. She didn’t know how to interpret Therese’s actions. She had an inkling Therese felt the same way, but how could she be sure, without putting herself in an awkward position. How could she put herself in a position at all, with how much both of them could lose? She decided to change the subject. She had been waiting for the right time to break some good news to Therese. “Darling,” Carol said, and with the single, sultry word; broke Therese away from the painting, brought her attention directly back to Carol. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve received word from the board this morning, and you’ve been granted the scholarship. The vote was unanimous.”

Therese beamed back at her, and placed the paintbrush in its tray. She ran to Carol and embraced her, throwing her arms around her neck. Carol smiled into her shoulder, reveling in the scent of her. “Are you serious?” A muffled voice came from buried in Carol’s neck, a welcoming tickle.

Carol pulled away slightly to meet the girl’s eyes. “Of course I am. Don’t you know how talented you are? Do you think I spend every day working with students I just find mediocre?” Therese blushed again, bright red, and Carol thought she could drown in the small volume of those dimples.

“I can’t wait to tell Dannie we can afford real wine, in bottles!” Therese rushed over to her phone to text him, leaving Carol throughly confused.

~***~

Harge Aird found himself, yet again, in the office of his friend - private investigator Tommy Tucker. Tommy poured him a whiskey and Harge sat in the familiar chair in his office. Tommy broke the silence. “I gotta say, Harge. If you’re here about your wife with another woman again I’m gonna have to say maybe it’s time you let her go, old pal. You know how they say the third time’s a charm.”

Harge laughed. He felt partially insulted, but partially worried that Tommy was right. “It’s different this time,” Harge said. “It’s not like with Abby and with Genevieve. I don’t know if there even IS anything going on, I just have my suspicions.”

Tommy looked up from his notebook. “What kind of suspicions?”

Harge paused, realizing how ridiculous he sounded, but too far gone in his obsession to retreat now. He tried his best to explain. “It’s just that Carol has been acting differently. She’s been…happy. Coming home early to play with Rindy at night, making dinner. She has offered to pack Rindy’s lunch for school. She talks to me without yelling. Small things, you know?”

Tommy looked at him with legitimate curiosity. He liked Harge, but this was new territory for him as a PI. “Let me get this right,” Tommy finally said. “You want me to spy on your wife because she’s….happy?”

Harge shook his head yes. “I know it sounds crazy, Tommy. But something is up.”

Tommy put down his pen and shrugged. “Ok, Harge. I’ll get right on it.”

~***~

Therese missed class two days after she found out about her scholarship. It was the first time she had missed class since she started at Columbia; really it was the first time she missed class for as long as she could remember. The night before, Richard had showed up on her doorstep. He was soaking wet from head to toe from walking in the rain. He forced his way inside her apartment, and while he didn’t hurt Therese, he had scared her by talking about hurting himself. She stayed up all night trying to comfort him and, in the process, she demeaned herself. She talked about how she was unstable, and she needed to be alone to truly be able to concentrate on her writing. She told him she was too broken to do two things at once. She offered him praise and words he didn’t deserve. She told him many lies, but she was without guilt. She did it to spare him further pain. In the end, when he left, he seemed resigned but at least not distraught, and Therese called it a win. When she looked at her clock it was already six am, and she thought it better to get some rest before meeting with Carol, so she had skipped lecture.

Carol looked back from her painting when Therese entered the room and breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was distracted when she didn’t see Therese in class, and she knew her lecture fell flat without her muse there to focus on. Therese looked to be in the worst shape Carol had ever seen her. She had dark circles around her eyes, and her hair stuck out in weird angles from her ponytail. Carol noticed she had on the same clothes that she wore the day before.

Therese plopped down on the couch, buried her face in the pillow, and groaned. Carol walked over to her and sat on the arm of the couch, instinctively running her fingers through the young woman’s hair. Therese looked up at her and moved down on the couch, allowing Carol to sit; and Therese put her head in Carol’s lap. Therese’s exhaustion had depleted her of any reserve, she was doing exactly what she felt like doing today, and fuck anyone who got in her way. She closed her eyes and breathed in Carol.

Carol continued stroking her hair and wiping stray strands from her forehead. “Rough night?”, Carol finally inquired. “I have just the tea for a hangover remedy if you think you’re ready to let me get up.”

Therese frowned. She never wanted Carol to think that she would skip class for something as silly as a night of drinking. “It’s not that,” she said, as she reluctantly pulled herself off Carol’s lap and sat up beside her. “I’m so sorry,” Therese whispered. “I never want to miss anything you say. Ever.”

Therese sighed and stood up; she walked over to Carol’s painting and started to notice the new details Carol had added since she last saw it. Carol was immensely talented. There were several moments of silence and Therese started to think Carol was angry with her. Suddenly though, Carol spoke. Her voice was several notches lower than usual. “Therese,” she started. A pause, and then - “are you happy? With Richard, I mean.”

Therese froze. She hadn’t told Carol she and Richard had broken up. She had made a vow to never talk about Richard again, but she neglected to mention the most important part of their relationship - the end. Therese’s sleep-deprived mind was racing, her inhibitions lowered. She felt conflicted. A part of her didn’t want Carol to know she and Richard had broken up. A part of her was so happy with what they had, so content, and warm, and fulfilled. Therese wanted more, she wanted so much more, but she was so used to being unhappy. This small part of Carol’s world that she had been allowed to share was everything to her. Carol stroking her hair. Carol’s hand on her waist. She shivered; visibly shaken by her own internal turmoil. She turned back to the painting and lowered her head. She didn’t want Carol to see the tears fall. “Don’t ask me that,” she whispered.

Carol stood, and walked up behind Therese. Therese could feel her coming towards her, Carol’s presence like a magnet being slowly drawn to its mate. Therese felt a hand on her shoulder, and then; like a whisper - Carol’s breath on her neck. Carol wrapped her arm around Therese’s waist, and she could feel her breasts pressing into her back. Therese’s entire body was on fire from the contact, her heart seemed to elevate into her throat, her breath hitched, her feet felt as if she were hovering above the ground. Carol leaned her head into Therese and whispered into her ear. “I have to know,” she sighed. “I have to know that you are happy.”

Therese felt her body relax into Carol, and she raised her jaw to meet Carol’s lips, her whole body searching for more contact, like a frozen animal seeking warmth. “I left him,” Therese said. “And so yes, I am happy. I’m so happy, Carol.”

Carol placed her hand to Therese’s jaw and used her other hand to turn Therese’s hips to face her. Deep blue eyes were clouded with lust; and for the first time, Therese knew she wasn’t alone in the feelings she had. Carol traced Therese’s bottom lip with her thumb, continuing along her jaw and down her neck, eyes following. Therese leaned into her touch, her breath hitching in her chest, her heart pounding in her ears. Carol leaned towards her and rested their foreheads together. It was Therese who looked up, and when their eyes met again, there was no turning back. Carol registered the same look of desire in Therese, her green eyes piercing like emeralds. Carol lunged at her, and the two of them knocked the easel back several feet as their lips met in an almost violent embrace. Carols hand snaked behind Therese, pulling her head impossibly closer, Carol’s tongue begging for access, which was immediately granted. Therese was sucking and breathing in everything that was Carol. She wanted to suffocate herself on Carol, she wanted to feel and kiss every inch of her mouth, her need becoming desperate. As they broke apart for air, Carol continued to kiss along Therese’s jaw, peppering noisy marks down her neck and onto her shoulder. Therese arched her back and closed her eyes, allowing Carol to worship her. “I’m so happy,” she whispered.

Neither woman heard nor even noticed the occasional flashes of light and clicks coming from the fire escape outside Carol’s office.


	7. Blue Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the angst, I have such fondness for this chapter. I thank you, as always, for continuing to read my story and appreciate each and every one of you who have taken the time to comment. I really appreciate your thoughts and have taken them to heart as I continue to craft this vision. As Carol says in this chapter, sometimes it is hard to take a vision from your head and put it on canvas, or - in this case - into words; but I hope I can continue to captivate you and you'll be curious to find out what's next for these ladies. Hearing your thoughts on what resonates with you has really shaped how these women have come together, especially in this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks again!

** Chapter 7: Blue Valentine **

**_February, 2011_ **

> _“I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.”_  
>  _~The Picture of Dorian Gray_
> 
> _“I yearned to be near the magnificence of you. I felt worthiness, and strength - an ability to be more than who I am. I became more than the fragility of my reflection within your eyes”_  
>  _~ unk._

 

Therese could feel her head begin to spin as Carol’s breath hit her ear, a warm tongue darting along her jaw, and suddenly her knees buckled. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and guided her to the floor, where they both sat panting, foreheads pressed together. Therese caught her breath and tried to move towards Carol again, but Carol put a finger to her lips, squeezing her eyes tightly she gasped; “wait.”

Therese was hungry, she was like an animal, starved for something she didn’t even know she had wanted. “I don’t want to wait Carol, I want you.”

Carol said nothing at first, just traced the outline of Therese’s lip with her finger. “I want you too, god how I want you. But not here on the floor of my office, not like this. Not before we can let our minds clear and at least pretend to realize how dangerous this is.”

Therese had sincerely not thought of the implications of a relationship with her professor. She hadn’t even considered it. And she knew that she could clear her mind all day, every day, and there wouldn’t be a single threat, a single obstacle that she wouldn’t tackle with fists held high to be with Carol. She would fight, she would kill. She was like an animal; she had tasted blood, and she would not be deterred; and when she spoke, her voice came as a low growl. “I don’t care, Carol. I don’t care about anything but this.”

Carol had a bit more life experience - and not only that, she had this exact same life experience - twice. As she sat there on the ground facing the angel before her, who had been flung so randomly and wonderfully into her life, she found herself remembering the horrible events that had led her heart to become so protected, so fiercely walled off. What had allowed an organ of fire to be covered in ice; pumping cold water through her veins. What would make a fiercely passionate, strong woman cower in fear and stop to even catch her breath, let alone second guess making love to the woman sitting across from her, staring into her eyes -questioning and longing? Carol should have jumped headlong into the flames, but her past held her back like barbed wire; re-opening old wounds as she strained against it.

When Harge had found out about Abby, Carol hoped to continue their relationship behind his back, until she realized Abby’s feelings for her were far too strong and she couldn’t be with her without destroying her. Carol loved Abby as a friend, but Abby’s love for Carol was unrelenting, fierce. Harge threatened to dismantle their marriage at that time, but part of Carol still wanted him then, and she fought for him - and for Rindy, who was so young at the time.

Carol fell out of love with Harge slowly. I happened so slowly she didn’t even really notice it was happening. At first she simply thought she had grown tired of him sexually, but then she started to realize that she was making more and more excuses to be away from him. She would plan things to do with Rindy alone, she would conveniently fall asleep on the couch. Slowly, they drifted apart like leaves on the water; silently, peacefully.

When Carol met Genevieve, everything changed. Their relationship was anything but silent or peaceful. Gen consumed Carol like a fire, everything Gen touched became engulfed in flame or scorched to ashes. Gen couldn’t do anything gently, or half-heartedly. Their relationship was passionate, and - yes - often violent. Carol yearned to be owned by Gen, she wanted to be marked by her, and it drove her into a maddening frenzy. It was the novelty of this desire that fed the flame, Carol had never been the submissive party in any relationship before.

Carol did the best work of her life during those eight months she shared a bed with Genevieve Cantrell, and perhaps that was what made their unraveling so painful. Gen inspired in her a passion for painting that she never knew existed. Carol used to paint naked in the middle of Gen’s studio; spatters of color adorning the flesh of her breasts, her stomach. Gen would watch her from the doorway and often surprise her by coming up behind her canvas and standing there, silently, watching Carol. Carol always thought she could be lit on fire just by those eyes on her skin.

Genevieve ended their affair with the same amount of outward emotion with which she had begun it - very little. Carol thought for sure the affair would end because Harge would notice she was scratched and bruised, but she found that Harge paid little attention to her body at all since they stopped sharing a bedroom. Even when her face was marked with deep scratches, she passed it off as a bad fall against her easel and he accepted it without questions. But it was Gen who, in the end, fled from their relationship because Gen was incapable of getting too close to anyone. Gen felt herself falling for this blonde woman who had taken over her dreams, her thoughts. Gen believed her own creativity lied in detachment, but really she was just afraid to allow anyone else to be in control. And Carol Aird had begun to control her thoughts. Gen began to think of the woman with tenderness - and so she left her. To this day, Carol Aird remains the only woman over whom the great Genevieve Cantrell has ever cried.

But it was Carol who was truly broken. Her work suffered, and her home life was shattered. She realized how cold and dispassionate her marriage had become, and she fell into a pit of depression and self harm for which she eventually had to be hospitalized. When she finally started to crawl out of the pit, she found out that Harge knew about the affair all along. He threatened to end their marriage again, and this time he threatened to use her hospitalization in addition to the evidence of her affairs as fodder to get custody of Rindy. After that, Carol’s depression worsened, but never externally. She knew what had to be done; and so her life became just a shell, a mere suggestion of the person she used to be. She often felt as if she was drifting about as a ghost of her former self, terrified of any woman who even looked at her with desire, for fear they were working for Harge. Her delusions kept her away from parties, away from friends, away from life.

It was Abby who had saved her. It was Abby who literally held a mirror up to her face and made her look at herself clearly. It was three months after Genevieve had left her, and Carol was unrecognizable. She was gaunt and pale, reddened dark circles permanently etched under her eyes. “If you think whatever you are doing is making you a good mother, think again,” she had said, a coldness in her voice which had startled Carol. She had put the mirror down and forced Carol to make eye contact, deep brown eyes searching Carol’s deadened grey. “Rindy came to me, you know,” she said. “She asked me if mommy was angry with her, and if that is why you never played with her anymore. She asked if she was the reason you were so very sad. You better think about that, Carol- because I miss my friend; I miss her desperately. And that little girl needs her mother back.”

~***~

“Carol, please say something.” Therese spoke and Carol shook her head, as if in a dream. When she looked at her angel staring back at her, she realized that everything she had ever lost had brought her to this moment. She wasn’t going to lose Therese before she even had a chance to love her.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said softly. “Come here, darling. Lie with me for a while?” A single tear rolled down Therese’s cheek and a smile blossomed her dimples. She lay her head in Carol’s lap and Carol gently stroked her hair - and Carol tried not to be scared. The fierce protectiveness she felt for this girl, the weight of the responsibility she felt to care for her and be there for her - it was overwhelming. She already felt so much more for Therese than she ever felt for Harge, or Abby, or even Gen - and she had only just begun.

Carol leaned over and started peppering soft kisses along Therese’s hairline. She smoothed her eyebrows with a finger then kissed each of her closed eyelids, which were moist with tears. Their lips met again, but softly this time, Carol trying to convey all the tenderness her cold heart could muster; Therese’s lips starting to warm and soothe her; an aching pull in the pit of her chest drawing tears to fall, unbidden. Therese reached up and wiped away her tears with her thumb, and kissed each of her cheeks. When their tongues began to dance, Carol felt her whole body start to tingle; an long forgotten feeling of yearning bubbling up inside - like a limb starting to reawaken after being sat on for too long.

They fell asleep on the couch tangled in each other, and Carol was awakened only by the sound of the night generator kickstarting in the old office building; the mechanical click of the master lights being extinguished in the hallways. Carol looked down at Therese’s face, which was lit by the moonlight, and watched her breathing. Without opening her eyes, Therese said softly - “We will be careful, Carol; but I’m not going to stop. I don’t think I can ever stop.”

~***~

Therese was making lightning progress on her essays, and she would show up to Carol’s office each evening that week. Therese would rub Carol’s shoulders as Carol read through each of her drafts. Her final drafts for her submission to the guild was due next week, and Carol was hoping Therese would be selected as a finalist for one of the top prizes. After working, Carol would paint and Therese would read on the sofa, usually falling asleep only to be awakened with soft kisses. Therese would reach for Carol when she pulled away, desperate for more, desperate to feel Carol against her skin, to touch her, to claim her. She wanted to taste every part of Carol, and her need was growing intense. Valentines Day was coming up, and the in the back of her mind, Therese thought perhaps Carol was being sappy, making her wait. But then she thought, surely Carol would be spending the night with her husband, and her hopes were dashed. She eventually decided she didn’t mind taking it slow. She would wait a lifetime for Carol. She soaked up every moment in Carol’s presence like a sponge, allowing herself to bask in happiness, allowing herself to let her happiness shine through her skin and warm her from within.

Carol saw Therese’s longing for her, and knew she was growing impatient, despite only having first kissed her less than a week ago. She could see it in her eyes every time they broke a kiss, every time Carol would slowly guide her wandering hands away from her breasts. Carol had to admit she was surprised at herself, she was never one to prolong the inevitable; but she had never felt like this before. Part of her felt like Therese was fragile, so innocent. The last time Carol made love it was with Genevieve, and was so unlike how she wanted it to be with Therese. She felt paralyzed by an irrational fear that she would overwhelm the younger woman, that she would scare her - or worse - change her in some way. Her desire for Therese was so pure and strong it was almost tangible, and she didn’t quite know how to translate it to her hands, her mouth. It was like seeing a painting in her mind but being unable to transfer it to canvas.

~***~

Carol came home after work on Valentine’s Day expecting the usual bouquet and chocolates to be waiting on the table for her. Instead, she found the house dark and empty. A brief check through the rooms confirmed that Harge and Rindy were gone. On the table was a brown envelope. When Carol opened it and saw the photos inside she dropped everything she was carrying and collapsed to the ground. Ironically, it was a post it note on the last photo that delivered the final blow. “You’re an embarrassment, Carol. Fix this now or I’ll end both of your careers, and I’ll make sure the only time you see your daughter is through court-ordered visitation. I’ll be watching. Happy Valentines Day.”

Carol traced the lines of Therese’s face on the photo as if stroking her cheek, as she wept. “I’m so sorry, my angel,” she whispered into the darkness; “I’m so sorry.”

Carol didn’t move from the floor for well over an hour. Finally, she fumbled around the floor looking for her keys, her vision clouded with tears, head pounding. She looked lovingly at her keyring, remembering one was missing - the extra key to her office she had given to Therese. She instantly started weeping again at the thought of it. She called an uber and made her way back to campus, drafting a letter to Therese in her mind as she walked, braced against the cold.

Safe in her office, Carol locked the deadbolt behind her, and pulled close the blinds to the tiny window near the fire escape. Too late now, she thought. Hands shaking, she poured herself a bourbon. On her easel, she uncovered a unfinished portrait of a sleeping Therese, her angelic face lit by moonlight. She carefully removed the canvas from its backing and walked towards the large window across the room; which she somehow always managed to keep shut to the world. All these stories up - where no one could feasibly see inside. She shook her head at her own stupidity. She slid a cigarette out of her case and lit it, then lit the corner of the canvas, allowing it to burn down to her fingers before releasing it out the window; ashes scattering into the dark night.

~***~

Therese was fuming alone in her apartment; thinking about Carol spending Valentine’s night with Harge. Was she still close to him? Did they still make love? Did she love him? She kept pacing around her tiny space, chain smoking. The cat followed her around mewing, sensing her nervous edge. In a single determined moment, she grabbed her subway pass and ran out the door.

Therese didn’t know where she was headed, she just wanted to get some fresh air, clear her head. The cold February wind pierced her skin, she hadn’t remembered a heavy coat or scarf in her frenzied exit. As soon as she reached campus she knew she would go to Carol’s office. She would at least be amongst her things - she could sleep on the couch with pillows that smelled of Carol, make tea that reminded her of Carol, smoke Carol’s fancy french cigarettes. Hell, she just might move in there.

As Therese approached the office through the dark hallway she thought she saw a soft light from beneath the door. Carol must have forgotten to turn off the lights when she left. But, as she moved closer, she heard low music from under the doorway. She peered through the glass panel adjacent to the door, but couldn’t see anyone. If Carol was inside, she must be in the back studio area by the easel. Therese paused, her mind reeling. Why was Carol here in the middle of the night - and this night, of all nights? Did something happen? If she could have gotten away for the night why hadn’t she texted, asked Therese to meet her here? Why would she want to be alone? A thousand questions and not a single easy answer. She didn’t want to frighten Carol, so she texted her from outside the door.

“Carol, I’m outside your office - I couldn’t sleep. Why are you here alone, what’s going on? Please let me in?” She watched as the blue message was delivered, and then read. No reply though, and minutes ticked by that seemed like hours. Fuck it, she thought, and slid her key into the lock, only to find the deadbolt holding her back. She started banging on the door maniacally, she was starting to worry about Carol and was thinking of finding a fire ax to break down the door.

Nervous tears were welling up in her eyes when she saw Carol’s shadow come towards the door. Carol came up to the glass panel and Therese nearly jumped back when she saw her face. Carol’s eyes were darkened with makeup, black smears were still unable to cover the deep redness surrounded by purple halos. Her hair was stringy and wet. She held a near-empty bourbon glass and a cigarette precariously in one hand. “Let me in, Carol!” Therese pleaded against the glass.

Carol placed her palm to the glass, fingers splayed, like a child at an aquarium. Therese instinctively pressed her hand up to the other side to match Carol’s. Carol hung her head and wept, her cries audible through the heavy glass and even heavier door. Therese felt the distance between them was growing and expanding, she was holding her breath, she wanted to leap through the threshold and hold Carol, just hold her. Kiss away her tears and reach inside of her and dig out whatever it was that made this happen. She watched Carol’s body through the window as she heaved with sobs, her own tears starting to fall. After a moment, Carol’s eyes met Therese’s gaze once more and Therese thought she looked wholly changed, the tenderness and desire she knew was gone, replaced with a fierce coldness that was distant, which made Therese shiver as she pulled her hand away from the glass.

“Go home, Therese,” Carol said, loudly enough to be heard unmistakably through the glass. Then she turned, and Therese watched her walk away, turning off the lights as she retreated.


	8. I'll Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys- I can't stop writing about these women. Ugh- fuck other responsibilities, am I right!? I hope you enjoy this chapter. I love writing Dannie, and things are coming together in terms of the course I have planned, so - buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride. Leave a comment, will ya? Thanks!

** Chapter 8: I’ll Get By With a Little Help From My Friends **

**_Spring fades to Summer, 2011_ **

 

 

> _“Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching.”_  
>  _~ Gabriel García Márquez_
> 
> _“She had seen just now what she had only sensed before, that the whole world was ready to be their enemy, and suddenly what she and Carol had together seemed no longer love or anything happy but a monster between them, with each of them caught in a fist.”_  
>  _~ Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt_
> 
> _“May you never feel what I then felt. May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonised as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love.”_  
>  _~ Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre_

 

Carol spent the next three nights sleeping on the sofa in her office. She would sneak home in the morning, after she knew Harge had left for work but Rindy would still be home with the nanny, not yet gone to school. Rindy was an inquisitive child, and very perceptive. She would know her mother was sneaking out at night and coming back in the morning. Nothing got past that little girl. On this particular morning, the third of such mornings, Carol opened the door to the apartment slowly and gently, only to startle at the sight of her daughter just inside the threshold. Rindy had pulled a dining chair into the foyer and was patiently lying in wait, legs crossed, picture book in hand. Carol couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mommy, you left again last night after you tucked me in. You’re not very good at sneaking around, do you know that?”

Carol set her bags by the door and kneeled down in front of her daughter. “I actually do know that, snowflake. I know that very, very well.” A now familiar pain pricked at her chest as she bent over and kissed Rindy on the forehead. “It’s ok, sweet pea. Mommy had to spend extra time at work because some of her students are giving her… trouble.”

Rindy hopped down from her chair, allowing her mother to direct her back into the kitchen. “Is it Therese?” Rindy inquired, as casually as if she were asking about the weather.

Carol startled and set the chair down with a thud. “How do you know that name snowflake?”

“Oh, Daddy was just talking the other day. He said you had a very bad student and her name was Therese. But I was thinking it was a pretty name and asked if it was the same Therese that I met at the party. Daddy said it was. Then I thought she was so nice to me and it was silly to think that she could be bad.”

Carol sighed; worried a lock of hair about her finger. “That is pretty silly, actually. Therese - she isn’t bad, she’s…oh we mustn’t talk about that now let’s get you ready for school.” Carol was now even more flustered, and she hadn’t even begun to think about how she was going to face Therese.

On her way back to campus, Carol called Abby’s office line. This was the number Carol called when she didn’t want Harge to know she was talking to Abby. The department secretary answered and transferred the call to Abby, whose voice did nothing to hide her concern the moment she picked up. “Carol, what is it, what’s wrong?”

Carol’s voice cracked as she tried for brevity. “It’s Therese. Well, it’s Harge,” she croaked. “I need to see you, when is your first class?”

Abby sighed, half in concern, half in criticism. “Carol, I told you this one was trouble, I told you to be careful you can’t..”

Carol cut her off - “now isn’t exactly the time for I told you so, Abigail dearest. When can I stop by?”

A pause, then the old Abby was back. “Of course, I’m sorry, you know I’m here for you and I just worry. I just finished my morning lecture, I’m free until 12:15.”

Carol nodded, realized Abby couldn’t see her, then said simply; “I’ll see you soon.”

Carol had stopped using the family driver, because she didn’t know who to trust; even though the driver was under the employ of the Ross family - her parents. She was becoming itchy with paranoia again, she felt it creeping up the back of her neck, sending tendrils down her spine. She told the uber driver to stop at the women’s studies building instead, and she took the long way to Abby’s office, stopping to admire the artwork in the open hallways, calming her nerves. She realized then, without a hint of fear, that she needed a drink. She had become one of those people who needed an eye-opener. She had become so many things she never thought she would be. She had enough bourbon in the last three days to make several elephants drunk, tapping into the Ross family reserve somewhere around day two. She made a mental note to phone her father. She needed more french cigarettes too.

Carol entered Abby’s office, and Abby discretely shut the door behind her. Carol went directly to the window and lit a cigarette, pulled a chair over. Abby said nothing, she simply sat and waited. “Do you have any bourbon?,” Carol asked.

Abby laughed. “Carol, it’s 9:30 in the morning. Sit the fuck down, you’re a hot mess. Jesus Christ.” Carol sighed and sat in the chair, blowing smoke cautiously out the window. Abby hated smoking.

“There are pictures. Harge, he… Jesus, there are pictures. And the worst of it is, it was the first time.”

Abby scooted her chair closer to Carol, grasped her hands. “What was the first time? The first time you slept with her?”

Carol was genuinely taken aback at first, but realized Abby was only going by the normal timeline Carol usually followed with women. “No, god. We never… it was the first time I ever kissed her, ever - hugged her even. It was tender, and sweet - and it was mine. I thought it was mine. I thought…I thought we had time, I thought…when I was drawing her, drawing her face…” Carol trailed off, lit another cigarette.

Abby was resolute now, an anger welling up inside of her on her friend’s behalf. She had never seen Carol this way, even with Gen. Sure, Carol’s depression after that breakup was real; Abby was the one who had found her in her office, cowered in a corner, naked and shivering - but this was different. This was as if Carol was coming undone. It wasn’t just the edges fraying, and the realization shook Abby to her core. Carol was a writer. And maybe for that reason, even when Carol was broken, she was never at a loss for words. And the Carol standing before her now was babbling like a teenager.

“How did he find out, Carol?”

Carol just shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m not sure when he started having me followed again. I had been meeting with Therese for weeks, but this was the first night I ever allowed myself to touch her, I…”

“Wait,” Abby interjected. “This was in your office? How?”

Carol chuckled, and then started laughing, almost manically. “The fire escape! The bloody fire escape! That tiny window.”

Abby touched Carol’s knee, as if to ground her. “What do you need me to do, Carol?”

Carol took a moment to think. She hadn’t really thought that through. She hadn’t even thought past the next drink, the next time she could sleep, the next time she could close her eyes and pretend Therese was there, smiling at her with those dimples. She didn’t realize she had started to cry again until she felt Abby’s hand on her cheek. “We’ll get through this, Carol,” she said, her voice gentle, soothing. “You just have to tell me the plan.”

Carol took a deep breath and found her voice. “Jeanette is teaching this whole week. She’s actually quite excited and it’s a portion of the curriculum that she’s very good at. I’ll resume classes next week, if I can - stand by then. If I can face knowing she’s in the room, if I can face her eyes burning into my skin. But I’ll do it - we both know I will.”

Abby nodded, encouraging her. “There’s my girl. What about Therese’s private meetings, how is that to be handled? You can’t see her in your office again, Carol.”

Carol nodded, took a brief moment to consider what she already knew had to be done. “Therese’s portfolio for the guild is nearly finished, I was just waiting on the final draft of the last piece, and the final compilation. Once she hands that in, we can have a bit of reprieve. I’ll speak to Dr. Morganstern; ask if he’s willing to take on any new students and say I’m just too overwhelmed with my own work to mentor anyone right now. He’ll be thrilled.”

Abby considered all this carefully. “That all seems reasonable, but what are you going to tell Therese?”

Carol choked back a sob. “I don’t think I can speak to her, Abby. When she came to my office, after I found out - I couldn’t even open the door, I could barely face her through the glass. You always said Therese would be the one who wouldn’t be able to resist me, but you were wrong, Abby. She’s like a magnet to my soul. I can’t - I can’t see her.” Carol was breaking again, her pragmatic resolve crumbling.

Abby stood and walked behind Carol, placed a firm hand on Carol’s shoulder. “I’ll do it. I’ll talk to Therese.” Carol just cried louder, snot dripping down her nose now. Abby moved to kneel in front of her friend. “But you have to tell me why, Carol. Why are you doing this to yourself again?”

Carol knew the answer to this one. It’s all she had thought about for the past 72 hours. Why was she throwing this away? Why why she turning her back on Therese, when she had only recently decided that she would start living her life on her own terms again? “Oh Abigail. I could deal with the divorce, the dismantling of my home, my things, my pride. I could even fight Harge in court and probably learn to be happy with whatever contact I could have with Rindy, because I would know I was giving her the happiest mother she could have, not just a mother who was physically living with her. And my career, well - I’d throw it away in an instant. I’d give up writing, I’d give up painting, I’d give all of it up without a second thought. But Harge threatened to ruin Therese as well, and he could. He has ways. And I’d die before I let him do that. I’d die before I’d let that man take away the right of this world to see that girl’s beautiful talent.”

Abby paused, a tear sliding down her own cheek as she watched her friend break apart in front of her. “Doesn’t Therese get a say in that? Doesn’t she get to decide what sort of risk she would take?”

Carol just laughed, the hint of madness again. “She already told me she didn’t care. I can’t let her make that choice. And don’t be naive enough to think if Therese didn’t care about her career, that Harge would stop at that when he sets out to ruin her life. She’s the most beautiful human being I know, Abby. She has to have an equally beautiful, amazing life. And she can’t have it with me, not like this.”

Carol stood up, her legs barely holding her weight, her vision narrowing with the simple shift in gravity. She made a mental note to start alternating whiskey with water. Abby didn’t pry further, she sat in silence as Carol made her way towards the door. Before she left, Carol turned back and said; “Tell Therese… tell her that even now, through this exquisite pain, I would chose it all again to have the memory of her lips…to have the memory of her. Tell her I’d do it all again. And tell her to write, tell her to write until her fingers bleed and her heart mends. Tell her it will mend again. Tell her I can’t wait to read about it.”

~***~

That night, Therese opened the door to her apartment and tripped over a cascading pile of beer cans. The cat was lying in the top of an open pizza box. “You don’t get to judge me, kitty. The love of my life is gone before I ever really even had her, and that means I get to wallow in my own filth for as long as I damn well please.” She continued talking to the cat as she grabbed two beers from the fridge and climbed up into her loft. “It gets better, kitty. Today, she sent her best friend to talk to me, like we are in third grade. She couldn’t even bear to face me herself. She thinks this is sparing my career? Little does she know I’ll probably never write again.” The cat jumped up to the loft and sat on Therese’s chest and purred, kneeding her with his paws. “Thanks, kitty,” she said, as she drifted into another fitful sleep.

As each of the women were independently wading through grief, Therese did write that weekend. She wrote beautifully; the words pouring out of her like water, her tears coating the pages of her proofs. She accidentally set not one but two small fires in her apartment by absentmindedly throwing cigarette butts in the trash can instead of the ash tray while she was immersed in her laptop; post-it notes set ablaze. She didn’t bother cleaning any of it up; and so her whole apartment smelled of smoke, ash, beer, and stale pizza - the only thing she had consumed for the past week straight.

Sunday evening, when she knew she would be unseen, she went to campus with the final draft for her submission; crisply printed, in a plain brown folder; and slid it under Carol’s office door. On the inside of the folder she had taped her office key, with a single post-it note: “Carol - your name is etched all over my heart, and you pour out of me with every word I write. You said it was easy to write from pain, and you were right. But, because it’s all you - every word is another tincture of you - it’s also hard. Writing suddenly became simultaneously both the easiest and the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and by writing I will wade and wallow in you until I drown. Even as I write this, the smell of you fills my nostrils - stinging, burning. So this will be the last thing I will ever write - take good care of it.” And then, scrawled at the bottom, in shakier handwriting; “God, how I love you.”

~***~

Therese didn’t come to class on Monday. She didn’t come Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday either. Carol had been glad on Monday, she was relieved to be able to get her momentum back without having to face Therese’s prying eyes. But by Wednesday, she was worried. She had submitted Therese’s portfolio without a single edit. Not because it was perfect, although Carol was sure it was close; but because Carol couldn’t bring herself to read it. She had been stopped cold by the note in the folder, on stark yellow post-it paper. She had traced the final words over and over, until the ink wore into her fingers.

Thursday afternoon after the departmental symposium, Carol spotted the young man Therese was always walking home with. Dannie, was it? Without thinking twice Carol shouted out his name and he wheeled to face her; eyes squinted inquisitively, then a look of recognition as he walked over to her. “Dr. Aird, it’s good to see you again,” he said. “I really miss your class; when will you be slumming it with the undergrads again?”

Carol smiled warmly. “Not until next year, I’m afraid.” She paused, on shaky terrain. She didn’t quite know how to proceed without seeming overly invested. She didn’t know how much Dannie knew or didn’t know about her. “Hey, I thought I remembered seeing you often with one of my MFA students, Therese Belivet?”

“Sure,” Dannie said. “Therese and I are great friends. What’s up?”

Carol proceeded cautiously. “Well, she hasn’t been in class all week, and when I saw you here I thought I might ask you if you knew if she was alright? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just unlike her to miss class.” Dannie seemed obviously perplexed. Carol’s heart sank immediately. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if she’s ok. Her mind was racing.

“That is unlike her, especially when it comes to your class, Professor Aird.” He worried a piece of skin around his finger; as if unsure how to respond to her. Maybe he did know, and he was instructed not to talk to her? There was the paranoia again, pushing branches out where they didn’t belong. Dannie sensed her awkward stare and continued; “I’ll go over there now, to her apartment. I was meaning to talk to her today anyway, invite her to this party tomorrow. I’ll make sure she’s ok and tell her to get her ass in gear. Thanks for the heads up, Dr. Aird.”

“Oh, of course,” Carol replied, with the best air of nonchalance she could muster.

~***~

Dannie knocked on Therese’s door that night and was startled when he heard something thrown against it from the other side. “Go away!” Therese’s angry voice yelled back.

“Well, uh, no way, not gonna happen, and did you just throw a beer can at me? Rude!”

He could hear Therese laugh through the cheap, thin door. Finally, a timid voice came through and Dannie breathed a sigh of relief. “How did you know it was a beer can?”

Dannie shouted right back; “what else would you have to throw? I’ve seen your shit hole of an apartment. Come on, let me in, something smells bad out here.”

Therese pulled her robe closer and stepped over the mounds of trash to open the door. Dannie just stared at her, eyes wide. “Well no, that smell is coming from in here, my bad.” He stepped past her, making exaggerated movements around the piles of trash. “What have you done with your cat? What is happening? What the actual fuck, Therese?!” A loud meow came from the loft above, where Kitty had marooned himself; afraid to leave the comfort of the mattress and wade into the abyss of trash. “Kitty can’t live like this, Therese. What’s going on?”

Therese sank to the floor and sighed. Then she belched. “Well, for starters, I can see you’ve kept yourself to a steady diet of beer and pizza. You know when they say it’s the breakfast of champions they don’t mean you’re supposed to eat if for every breakfast.” Therese finally turned a corner of her lip into a slight smile. “There’s my girl,” Dannie beamed. “So, seriously, what happened - did you get into it again with Richard?”

“No, it’s Carol. Dr. Aird", Therese said, reluctantly. "We just had a falling out is all. I don’t think I can be her student anymore. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s ok? Tell me something funny, tell me a good story.”

Dannie tore off the top of a pizza box and made an elaborate display of using it as a seat cushion before settling himself on the floor next to his friend. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. “You know my brother, Phil?. Well he’s been making a lot of progress with his sculpture, and he was invited to show some of his work during a gala this woman is having tomorrow night - it’s supposed to be a killer party.” Therese winced. She didn’t know if she was ready to present herself to the world again. She had relied solely on food delivered to her apartment for almost two weeks now. She had to have gained ten pounds in that time alone.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dannie pressed. “you don’t think you’ll be able to shower enough times before then to rub off all the layers of grease; but I have faith in modern soap technology, Therese. It can be done.” Therese threw an empty beer can at him, which he dodged artfully. “Seriously, Terry. Phil is trying to get in this chick’s pants, even though I’ve heard she’s not a fan of humans with penises. I think the thrill of the chase has actually improved his art. There will be new faces there; Richard definitely won’t be there - and - bonus - we can drink this fancy lady’s booze for free. Come on, whadda say?”

Therese had to admit the idea of new faces and a whole new crowd appealed to her. Maybe she was ready to move to a new stage of grief - the stage where she ate fancy food and danced with her friends whilst looking at snooty art. “Ok,” she acquiesced. “Who is this fancy lesbian, anyway?”

Dannie had wandered to the fridge and was looking for a beer that wasn’t empty. “Something Cantrell…oh yeah - Genevieve Cantrell.”


	9. Pleasure and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: there is mention of self-harm in this chapter. While not overly explicit, please take caution if this is a trigger for you. 
> 
> Hello again, lovelies! Thank you for the comments on the last chapter; I hope I still have some surprises up my sleeve for you in the upcoming chapters! This continues to be a labor of love and I'm having a great time writing it, as I hope you are reading it. I continue to be very appreciative for your thoughts and ideas about the story!

** Chapter 9: Pleasure and Pain **

**_Summer, 2011_ **

> _“Pain and Pleasure are never far apart”_  
>  _~ Carol Storm_
> 
> _“I went through a period when sex had to be violent. I was desperate to feel something real. Nothing felt real. Every kiss felt like half of what it should be. You’re just reaching for air.”_  
>  _~ Song to Song_

 

Therese hadn’t looked in a mirror for several weeks. Now the face staring back at her was totally unrecognizable. The pain she had experienced was written all over her face, mostly in her eyes. She decided she was going to make this party the introduction of her new persona. The Therese who gave zero fucks. The Therese who took what she wanted, made no apologies, and didn’t fall in love with impossible women. She laughed out loud at the thought. As if she could ever be that person. But what is it they say, fake it ‘till you make it?

Her hair had grown long, nearly to her buttocks, and was stringy and gross at the ends. She made a snap decision, grabbing a pair of scissors from her desk drawer. She cut about a foot of hair off in two blunt snips, leaving it laying just to her shoulders. She shrugged. It actually didn’t look too bad. Sort of industrial chic. Still long enough to cover her rounded cheeks. She didn’t stop there, but gathered a large chunk in the front where bangs would be, and cut a purposefully diagonal line from one side of her forehead at the hairline, down to the opposite ear. Industrial chic bangs, check.

She found an outfit she hadn’t the balls to wear for a long time; high-riding jeans, which hugged her hips and curves and ended at her slender upper waist. A midriff off-the-shoulder top ended just below her breasts, leaving several inches of exposed skin below. She applied bright red lipstick, dark and stormy eyeshadow, and thick eyeliner.

When Dannie showed up to pick her up, the first thing he noticed was she had cleaned her apartment. She called for him to come in while she finished getting ready. “Kitty is so happy, Therese. Way to pull yourself out of the pizza pit.” When she walked out, sporting her new look, Dannie jokingly looked around and behind her, “I’m, uh, looking for Therese - have you seen her?” Therese laughed. “You look great, Terry. You ready to go?”

“I am actually,” she replied. “I’m ready.”

~***~

Genevieve Cantrell was bored. This was a superbly boring party, and that was something she strived never to have. Her parties were supposed to be the best, every single one of them. Boredom was one of her least favorite emotions. She watched Phil, her young protege, making the rounds with her guests. He was talented, she couldn’t deny that. And he was gorgeous - she wouldn’t deny that either. She had slept with him twice now, and she was bored by that too. Men were boring, she thought - even the hot ones. She sipped her martini and canvassed the studio for someone more interesting to talk to.

Therese was having fun, even though she would never admit that to Dannie. She was getting attention from some of Phil’s friends, and she was actually enjoying flirting with them. She took a break from dancing and went to the bar to refresh her drink. She was drawn to the back room of the studio where she saw even more paintings were displayed. She told the bartender to make her bourbon a double, and started walking around the room, enjoying the art. This room was quiet, since most people were in the sculpture area. She took a moment to gather her wits. She had already drank quite a bit and she could feel her head swimming. She surveyed the large murals, the elaborate nudes. She noted that Genevieve had lovely taste in art. She was stopped dead in her tracks when she came to a painting on the far wall. It was a cityscape at night, a dark haired woman stood atop a building on the roof, and was facing out towards the New York skyline. Her hair was blowing in the breeze, it was the brushstrokes of the hair that Therese recognized, and a glance down to the placard below confirmed her suspicion: “Carol Aird - Untitled, 2009.”

Therese shivered. She couldn’t look away. Her mind was flooded again with thoughts of Carol. She had thought she was ready. She thought she was ready to forget about Carol and move on with her life, but she was so wrong. Looking at the painting pierced her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She shook her head at her own stupidity. How did she ever think that this was going to take only a few weeks? She felt more for Carol in the months that she knew her than anything she had ever felt before. How could she expect that feeling to just ooze away? She suddenly wanted to leave. She just wanted to go back to her apartment and think about Carol. She wanted to think about Carol every day until she couldn’t remember her face anymore. Then she realized that probably wouldn’t be possible, no matter how many moons she wallowed away.

Therese was startled from her reverie by a low voice behind her. “Glad you’re enjoying these paintings, no one ever comes in here.” Therese jumped back and reveled in the sight of the owner of the voice. She was a short, dark haired woman. She looked exactly like the woman in Carol’s painting. Sleek dark hair, shoulder length. She wore a jet black suit over a black dress shirt with black bow tie. It was clearly couture - made just for her petite frame.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not supposed to be back here?,” Therese asked, sheepishly.

“You, my dear, can be anywhere you’d like to be,” the mystery woman said, as she extended her hand. “I’m Genevieve.” Therese shook her hand. Gen’s small hands were surprisingly strong, her other hand came to grasp Therese’s wrist and she looked into Therese’s eyes with an intensity that made Therese look away. She steeled herself and met Gen’s dark brown eyes again.

“I’m Therese. Thank you, Ms. Cantrell - for this beautiful party. I’m a friend of Phil’s brother Dannie.”

Genevieve tilted her head to the side. “Please don’t call me that. Just Gen is fine. I’m so glad you came. This party was starting to feel really boring, until I saw you here, across the room. You’re a vision. I love your hair.”

Therese laughed. She felt genuinely at ease now, despite being overwhelmed by Genevieve at first. “Would you believe me if I told you I cut it myself, about five minutes before this party?”

Genevieve smiled broadly. “That is amazing. You’re amazing. Can I get you another drink?”

Therese looked down at her glass, she didn’t realize she had already downed most of her bourbon while looking at Carol’s painting. “Sure, bourbon please?” Another smirk and a slight low chuckle from Genevieve. “What’s so funny about bourbon?,” Therese asked shyly.

“Oh it’s not you, gorgeous. A woman I used to… know. She was a bourbon drinker. Come, I’ll pour you some from my special reserve.”

Therese followed Genevieve upstairs to a loft above the studio. It was an astonishing space, with floor to ceiling windows, dark wood floors; minimal furniture. Gen poured Therese a drink and watched her silently from behind, as Therese took in the city view through the windows. Therese jumped when she felt a hand on the small of her back, Gen handed her her drink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Gen whispered.

Therese shook her head. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m a jumpy person on a good day, but I’ve been - let’s just say this is the first human contact I’ve had in a while. Your loft is gorgeous.”

The two of them stood in silence for several minutes, watching the city below. Therese thought of Carol. The smell of the bourbon in her nose, Gen’s touch on her back; it all painfully reminded her of Carol. Combined with her significant alcohol intake that evening, her delicate resolve had started to crumble. She realized that her new persona wasn’t a persona at all. It was just a mask. The real Therese was still buried underneath, and that Therese still loved Carol.

It was Genevieve who finally broke the silence. “You’ve lost someone,” she whispered. Therese turned to face her, startled. Genevieve brought a hand to her cheek, then traced the line of her makeshift bangs along her forehead. Therese closed her eyes. She was waiting for Gen to kiss her. She teetered back on her heels, the last bourbon hitting her hard. Gen caught her, the same strong hand across her lower back. Therese opened her eyes to see Gen staring at her, a look of lust and desire flickered between them. It was Therese who lunged at Genevieve, bringing a hand to the back of her head and crashing their mouths together.

If Gen was surprised, she didn’t let on. She walked Therese back towards the window, and pressed her strongly against it. She grabbed Therese’s jaw with a strong hand and broke their kiss, looking her directly in the eye. She licked a line across Therese’s jaw, and slipped a thumb into her mouth, probing. Therese reached for her again and their lips met, the force of which both women knew would bruise them if they kept it up. Therese forced her tongue into Gen’s mouth, and Gen let out a moan of pleasure; she was pleasantly surprised at how forward this young girl was. She was pleasantly surprised by Therese in general.

Gen’s hand migrated from Therese’s jaw down to her neck, squeezing tightly; which only seemed to spur Therese on. Therese grasped Gen’s lower lip between her teeth and bit down; causing the smaller woman to press her into the window more firmly, tongues dancing again. Gen’s other hand snaked up the side of Therese’s top, expertly finding her breast and squeezing; she pinched her nipple tightly as Therese sucked on her tongue.

Suddenly, and without warning, Gen pulled away, taking three steps back; leaving Therese breathing heavily, shoulders heaving; bright red lipstick smeared down her jaw. Gen’s lower lip was swollen and she too had red lipstick smeared on her cheek. “When you’re over what you’ve lost. Come find me, Therese. I’ll be waiting.” She turned quickly and disappeared down the stairs; leaving Therese still gasping in her wake.

~***~

**_Winter 2011-2012_ **

It had been five months since Carol saw Therese through the glass of her office door. Five months since her heart had really beat. It was no coincidence that it had also been five months since she had painted. Carol had no idea were Therese was, what she was doing, how she was doing. Shortly after she approached Dannie that day after the symposium, he had come to her office. He had apologized at least a dozen times, for reasons which were unclear to Carol. Eventually, he was able to tell her that Therese was indeed quitting the program. She hoped her work from her portfolio would carry her through the semester. Carol had asked what Therese planned to do and Dannie said he didn’t know. And that was it. Like a string snapping off a kite, watching it fly away into the heavens.

Carol had sunk back into her ice fortress. She spent more time tutoring the MFA students, desperate to find that human connection; but none of them captivated her, personally nor professionally. In her office, she had removed all of the photos off the back wall; and instead she had various pages of Therese’s essays taped up, from floor to ceiling. When asked, she passed them off as her own work, an idea wall of sorts. Carol’s locked desk drawer was filled with the old post-its; the goodbye note on top; smudged and crinkled by time and tears.

Carol spent a great deal of time with her daughter. Rindy was growing more inquisitive and intelligent each day. Carol had introduced her to painting, and Rindy was insatiable. Carol felt it almost made up for the fact that wasn’t painting herself. Success through posterity. She still spent most nights in her office. She would tuck Rindy into bed, and then head back to campus. Her office was the only place that still reminded her of Therese. She could lie on the couch and pretend she could still smell her hair on the pillow, though the scent had long since faded. And in her office, she could stare at Therese’s words on the wall until she fell into fitful sleep. Harge was satisfied that she was truly alone. He must have called off the PI, she could no longer feel a presence following her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Carol was meeting Abby for their weekly coffee, and was running late as usual. Little did Carol know, Abby was prepared for a mini intervention. Carol sat down with her usual tired sigh. Abby slid a portfolio in front of her. “What’s this?,” Carol asked.

“Open it,” Abby replied, “peruse.”

Carol opened the folder to find copies of some of her paintings. In the corner of each copy, Abby had scrawled the date on top in bold black sharpie. They were arranged in the order they were presented at various shows, starting from five years ago. Carol reached the last painting in the folder and looked up at Abby inquisitively. “You’re showing me my own work, but you appear to have plastered them with graffiti… is this some sort of code?”

Abby closed the folder and just stared at Carol. “Yeah, it’s code for look who hasn’t painted jack shit for eight months.” Recognition hit Carol like a stone. Abby took Carol’s hand, a softer countenance as she appealed to her friend. “Look, Carol, I just know how much painting helps you. It’s who you are. It’s in your bones. I’ve watched you literally wither away these past five months, I don’t know… I don’t know how to help you. I can’t reach inside you and pull out the pain that Harge has caused, the pain caused by losing… her.” Carol couldn’t hide the pain caused by Abby’s words, she hadn’t the strength. But she also knew she was right. Abby pulled back, giving Carol a moment in silence, as she filled both of their large coffee cups.

Carol felt resolute. “I’ll go see Gen tomorrow,” she said.

“There’s my girl,” Abby smirked.

~***~

Therese woke up on the floor, again. She had fallen from her loft bed. She groaned; thumbed a bruise on the side of her hip from where she had fallen. Or was it from some other nighttime activity? Hard to say. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. No other bruises or marks. She had told Genevieve to keep the hickies to a minimum; but then quickly amended that to admonish her to keep them to places where they could be hidden by her work uniform. She had not only picked up several additional shifts at the movie theatre, she also was working at the art studio where Gen lived; helping with organization of new exhibits, ticket sales, and anything else Gen would let her do.

To say she was happy would be a lie. She was still searching for feeling, desperately seeking experiences that would awaken her heart, would shake the ice from her bones, bring her back to life. She hadn’t written anything in five months. She felt, for lack of a better word, numb. Gen made her smile though, she made her laugh. She fucked her until she momentarily forgot who she was and who she belonged to. Because that’s still how she felt, all this time later. Whatever essence she held, her soul - that still belonged to Carol.

Sex with Gen had started out passionate, but quickly escalated to something more than that. Therese had looked up at Gen one night, Gen’s eyes searching hers for recognition, for permission. Therese had simply nodded, and Gen had grabbed her by the throat, hard. Therese had strained against her at first, eyes rolled back. But now Therese had found she could no longer have an orgasm without Gen’s hands around her neck. She could no longer be aroused without harsh slaps to her ass, teeth on her nipples. She yearned to feel anything, to feel more.

Therese started having nightmares a few months back, and she would often end up like she did this morning, on the floor below her loft bed. Dannie had tried to convince her to move her bed to the floor, but part of her relished in the pain and the bruises. That same part of her drew knives across her skin; late at night - when she was alone. She never cut her wrists; that was boring, and too dangerous. She didn’t have any wish to bleed out. She just wanted to feel. She would cut light scratches into her thighs, and the backs of her knees where the skin was the most sensitive. Gen initially looked at them with a air of concern; widened eyes; until Therese just shook her head and held a finger to Gen’s lips. Gen never spoke of it again.

~***~

Carol knocked on Genevieve’s studio door with an air of apprehension. She hadn’t seen Gen in almost a year. But, she knew she could still draw inspiration from the woman, seeing her works always brought light and recognition to Carol. As much as Carol hated to admit it, she still felt an odd sense of responsibility and remorse any time Genevieve criticized her work. As terrible as she and Gen were as partners in bed, they were perfect for each other for creative inspiration, critiques, words of wisdom. Carol chastised herself for waiting this long to come see her old friend.

Genevieve answered the door with a look of surprise. She was clearly working at the time, paint splashed across her black leather apron; a streak of yellow in her dark hair. “Carol motherfucking Aird!” she exclaimed. She gave Carol two kisses, one on each cheek. Carol inhaled her scent, the same heady mix with hints of cinnamon. Gen ushered her into the studio and up to her loft, where her easel was in its usual place in the center of the room.

“I was just thinking of you, Carol Aird,” she declared, as she poured a bourbon for them both to share. A custom she had clearly not forgotten. “I was reading through the semi-annual faculty publication that Morgenstern puts out, expecting to be riveted by one of your short stories; but none were there! I thought to myself; well, she must be painting then. What have you been up to?”

Carol sipped the bourbon nervously. She still felt so diminished under Gen’s gaze, like a school girl seeking praise for her homework. “I actually haven’t been writing or painting much, I’m afraid.” She confessed this with a whisper, her head down. “I wanted to come see you,” she continued, “to see what you’re working on, what your students are working on. I desperately need some inspiration. And, if you don’t mind, I was hoping we could resume our weekly meetings, get your thoughts again.”

Genevieve approached her and Carol found herself unconsciously taking a few steps back. “Carol, you know I don’t bite unless you ask nicely,” Gen grinned; and there was the cleft in her chin; the same brightness in her eyes. “Of course, I would want and welcome all of the things you just said. Come - look at my new painting.”

Carol followed Gen to the middle of the room and took in the canvas in front of her. A slight chuckle escaped her lips. “What’s so funny?,” Gen asked.

“Well, I see you finally took my advice to heart and became more interested in humans.” Gen laughed, a deep hearty chuckle that brought memories flooding back. Times painting together in this same room. Times loving together in this same room.

“Well, I happen to be very interested in this particular human,” she replied. Carol took a moment to appreciate the details of the work before her. It was a young woman, with healthy curves; her back to the canvas. Her body looked eerily familiar, and it made Carol shiver. Her shoulder length brown hair was pulled away from her face and she had her head slightly turned toward the viewer, only a cheek and side of the chin visible. Her left cheek stood out with Gen’s signature marking; three scratches from the ear, reaching across to disappear below the neckline. But this woman had scratches everywhere. Deep gouges were depicted behind her knees, across the backs of her thighs. She was standing in a pool of blood. Above her head was an angel’s halo; and here Gen had made an exquisite depiction of light. The soft yellow light lit and surrounded the woman’s head and cascaded down below her shoulders, flecks of it bounced off her buttocks. From the corners of the painting there was only darkness, blacks faded to browns, and tiny demon faces peering around a corner, as if staring at the subject.

“Gen, this is exquisite work. Is this your new muse?”

Gen walked up behind Carol and took the glass of bourbon from her hand, taking a healthy sip. “It is, indeed. She’s incredible. I won’t give you any boring details, but - oh what am I saying, of course I will.” It was Carol’s turn to laugh, but she found she couldn’t draw her eyes away from the painting. Gen continued - “I’ve never met anyone quite like her before. You know how I am, I tend to like to assert myself physically… but this one - she’s the only lover I’ve ever had with whom I don’t have to hold myself back. I don’t hold anything back. It’s starting to get dangerous, the things I feel for her.”

Carol nodded her head; “what do you mean, you don’t have to hold back?,” she asked.

Gen was silent for a moment before she answered. “It’s hard to describe. It’s as if she’s trying to fuck her way out of her own skin.”

Carol started to feel nauseous, she couldn’t place the source of it. She just knew she needed to leave. She thanked Gen for her time and set up an appointment to see her the following week. Gen told her to bring some sketches and they would discuss them. As Carol walked from the studio back to campus, she couldn’t shake the vision of that painting. She kept seeing the girl, seared behind her eyelids.


	10. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been partially in the works for a while, and I really can't wait to hear what you guys think of it. I guess I'll just leave it there - comments are, as you know, so wonderfully appreciated.

** Chapter 10: Revelations **

**_Fall, 2012_ **

 

Phil and Therese were trying to hang shelves in the studio for the sculptures to be exhibited at the gala that evening. They weren’t doing a very good job, according to Dannie. “They still look crooked, use the level again,” Dannie said from the back of the room.

“Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll level you,” Phil yelled back.

Therese was stressed, she knew Genevieve needed things to be exactly right for tonight, this was a big show for her; with many pieces of art on sale. “Dannie’s right,” she said. “Let’s recheck this one and then use the laser level to make sure it’s level with the longer shelf over there.

Phil sighed and shook his head; “this isn’t worth it unless you’re screwing her, you know that right?” Therese just glared at him.

Just as they were screwing the bolts into the third shelf in the row, the front door of the studio opened and Gen stormed in. She took a brief look around the studio; her countenance unreadable. She stopped in the center of the room. “Phil and Dannie, get out,” she said loudly.

Phil looked up from where he was holding the bulk of the weight of a shelf as Therese screwed it in, “ok as soon as I’m done here, we’re out of your hair.”

Gen just shook her head and continued; “let it hang there, let it rip the wall open; I don’t care. Both of you get out, now.” Dannie and Phil paused for a second, likely in shock. “Get the fuck out!,” she was screaming now.

Phil dropped his end, and the shelf did indeed rip a small hole from the dummy wall before it swung loosely and violently into Therese’s arm. “Goddamit, Phil;” she cried; as there was not a small amount of bleeding from the scrape caused by the shelf.

“What did you want me to do?,” he quipped; and then he and Dannie grabbed their bags and hurried out.

Therese had spent enough time with Genevieve to know when to keep her mouth shut and wait. This was one of those times. There was an approximately 75% chance this had nothing to do with her, and Gen just needed to blow off some steam; likely involving sex, or throwing things… or both. Gen was stalking back and forth; rubbing her temples. The thought occurred to Therese that maybe this was a rare time that Gen needed - comfort? Something in the vicinity of comfort? Therese knew Genevieve had been stressed and nervous about this show for a month now. She had a lot of art lined up to be sold, and many highly valued donors to the Columbia art department were likely to show up.

Therese walked up behind Gen while she was looking out one of the large windows, and tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. Gen didn’t flinch. She started walking towards the stairs to the loft; a beckoning finger requesting Therese to follow. Therese was feeling bold. She hurried to follow Gen up the stairs; and when she was several stairs below her she grasped Gen by the ankle. Gen stopped dead in her tracks, but didn’t trip. She froze, waiting to see what Therese would do.

Therese drew her hand up the inside of Gen’s calf, stopping briefly at her knee; waiting to see if she had crossed a line; watching Gen’s reaction. Gen straightened her back, she didn’t let on how she was feeling. Therese decided to continue. She took a few steps up towards her, reaching her hand further, sliding it up the inside of her thigh to cup her sex through her yoga pants. They were teetering precariously on the same stair now, and Therese reached her other arm around Gen’s waist; lifted and carried her small frame that way - up the remaining three stairs and laid her on the ground of the loft; breathing heavily.

Gen crashed her mouth into Therese, quickly probing with her tongue - she had liked the move. Therese smiled into her mouth and nibbled at her bottom lip. She maneuvered quickly and worked her hand down the front of Gen’s pants; pulling them down with her forearm. Therese entered her with two fingers, quick and fast; without preamble. Gen squealed as she was pushed backwards against the slippery wooden floor by the force of Therese’s fingers inside her.

Therese used her larger form to flip Genevieve onto all fours; and she bit at her neck as she thrust quickly and ruthlessly from behind. Moving her other hand to Gen’s clit, she rubbed fast, with increasing pressure. She wanted Gen to come before she could realize Therese was in control; or do anything about it. And Gen did come - quickly. With a low groan she shook and pulsed against Therese, trying instinctively to push Therese away as she came down; but Therese forced her to the ground, pushing Gen’s cheek into the floor as she ran her wet fingers up and down her spine under her t-shirt.

Therese leaned her whole body weight against Gen’s back, stroked Gen’s cheek with her own. She nuzzled her mouth against Gen’s ear and whispered; “the show is going to be amazing. You need to calm the fuck down.” Gen released a low chuckle and used her considerable strength to reverse their positions. Therese was still amazed by the strength she hid behind that petite frame. Gen looked down at Therese; brushing her hair away from her face in a rare moment of tenderness.

Therese was surprised by the look in Genevieve’s eyes; she couldn’t place it. She could usually read her like a book. “What is it?,” she whispered.

Gen tilted her chin slightly and sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a writer, Therese?”

Therese jolted up; nearly banging her head into Gen’s chest. “Wha - what do you mean,?” she asked.

Gen stood slowly and grabbed a journal from the side of her bed; tossed it at Therese. Therese just looked at it blankly as Gen started to explain. “I’m a member of the Columbia Arts Colleges Collective; and I happen to be friends with a great number of professors in the English department. And, oh yeah - I read.” Therese finally opened the journal in front of her. It was the annual publication for the Young Writers Guild of America; and there was her name, in bold print on the first page. National Finalist Winner for Fictional Short Stories: Therese Belivet, Columbia University.

Therese felt suddenly chilled. She had blocked so much of that time from her mind, she had truly forgotten she still didn’t have closure on her final submission. The final piece she had written for Carol. Carol — the goodbye note, the window. All of it came flooding back to her at once and she felt nauseous and lightheaded. “It’s just… It’s something I used to do, is all,” she stammered. “I don’t write anymore. It didn’t work out.”

Gen tore the journal back from Therese’s grasp. “This isn’t something you ‘used to do,’ Therese. You were a masters student in one of the best programs in the country, and you’re about to be published in one of the most important literary journals in the world. You’ll have to give a speech - not to mention the sizable monetary award that comes with being a finalist. This isn’t like saying ‘I used to play volleyball in college.’” She paused, letting her words sink in. Therese was just staring blankly at the wood floor, avoiding eye contact. “Tell me what happened,” Gen pressed.

“I lost my motivation; my drive. My writer’s block became a permanent state.” As the words left her mouth, Therese realized they weren’t untrue. She didn’t know how far to go. She wanted to satisfy Gen enough so that she wouldn’t bring it up again, but she didn’t want to wade anywhere near waters where she would have to explain what happened with Carol. She opted for a generic statement, as Gen continued to stare at her with pointed silence - “I had a falling out with one of my professors. It was a relationship that I couldn’t continue to prosper or grow in.”

Gen just shook her head. “Well, Morgenstern is a dick,” she said. She had assumed that since Therese was the scholarship winner and national finalist, of course the department chair would have been her mentor. Therese was thankful for the mistake and said nothing at all.

Gen sat down next to Therese on the floor, grasped her chin and forced her to make eye contact again. What Therese saw staring back at her was a tenderness she had never seen before. It nearly broke her apart. “You know what, writers guild finalist Therese Belivet?” Gen asked, with a sing-song voice. Therese just grinned at her. “I’m going to inspire you again,” Gen continued.

“Oh, you are?” Therese teased.

“Yeah. I’m going to inspire you to write again. Inspiration is what I do. Plus, I read your work. You’re very talented… and its very hot.” Therese breathed a sigh of relief as Gen kissed her way down her neck; fingernails starting their aching, burning journey against her lower back.

~***~

Carol glanced again at the writers guild journal still wrapped in plastic, lying on her desk. She felt so many things, and none of those feelings were new. The thing she felt the most right at that moment, though, was guilt - overwhelming guilt. It was because of Carol that Therese stopped writing. Carol had been right about her talent, that was validated when she won. She could have had such a bright future; and Carol had squashed it all with her selfishness.

Carol knew Therese would find out about the award soon, if she hadn’t already. Therese would be asked to make a speech and read one of her essays at the national convention at the end of the year. And Carol would be there. It was barely past noon, but that was enough for Carol - she poured herself a healthy bourbon, lit a cigarette, then turned and threw the journal into the trash. It wasn’t like she hadn’t read every single one of those words hundreds of times before; the best of which were still plastered all over her office walls.

She tried to think positively. Her work was taking off again. Her weekly meetings with Gen were paying off and she had been painting steadily for several months. She had also started writing again. She wrote at night, while she was waiting for Rindy to fall asleep so she could retreat back to her office. She had published two short stories in the time since Therese left; fulfilling her own prophecy that sadness breeds the best writing. She wanted to amend that lecture though, now that she was living through it. It wasn’t sadness that bred the best writing, it was emptiness. From nothing, came everything.

~***~

The gala was a raging success; the major pieces were sold within fifteen minutes of opening. Gen was riding high, and Therese was relieved. Therese was also uncomfortable. Not emotionally, but physically. Gen had called her assistant and had Therese dressed for the evening - literally. She was wearing an elaborate gown which was tailored for her. She had never worn anything that wasn’t off the rack before. She was uncomfortable, but she also was pleasantly surprised with how it looked when she saw herself in the gala mirrors. The red was deep in color; almost burgundy; with a crystal inlay below her breasts. The fabric was snug in all the right places, and loose in all the places Therese hid her extra weight. She thought it was no wonder celebrities always looked so good; you start with a better baseline body and add dresses like this - anything was possible.

She also wore a complementary deep red scarf which fed into the pleating in the back of the dress. This fashion choice was deliberate - to hide the deep scratches and surrounding bruising she had acquired on the side of her face and neck a few nights before. She was so mad at Gen that night, and she insisted that she’d never be able to cover it up. It wasn’t exactly an easy mark to explain away. Gen had just grinned. She had licked the scratches, causing them to burn and pulse against Therese’s neck, and she had told her not to worry.

~***~

Carol entered the gala with a positive spirit. She was excited for Genevieve, this was a big night for her; and Carol had picked out several pieces she planned to purchase to support Gen’s cause; one of which was a larger sculpture by Phil McElroy. Another was Gen’s own painting of the girl with the scratches.

Carol was wearing a dark navy blue dress with a stunning pearl necklace and earrings. The dress was quite conservative, with a high neckline; her hair was swept up in a tight twist, a few strands left loose around her face. Abby wasn’t able to come with her tonight, so she planned on laying low at the bar. She didn’t want to risk getting caught up with any of Gen’s crazy friends tonight. She had a meeting with Dr. Morgenstern the next day to discuss Therese’s award. She still had no idea what she was going to tell him.

The studio was packed with people. Phil’s work took center stage in the sculpture area, and a large dummy wall separated the sculpture from the paintings. Gen’s painting of her mystery muse hung at the front of the long hall near the microphone where Gen would be making her comments and skillfully soliciting donations.

Carol settled herself in the corner of the bar, near the bartenders area where they housed all the glasses - strategy. She introduced herself to the bartender in her area; Mika was her name. She was an attractive young woman, and very tattooed - including her neck and hands, which peeked out from under her tuxedo. Carol allowed herself a moment to picture what those tattoos looked like underneath the penguin suit. “What do you drink, Carol?,” Mika asked, as she cleaned several highball glasses and returned them to the shelf behind the small sink.

“Bourbon, neat,” Carol replied.

Mika smiled. “A woman after my own heart. And the hostess’ favorite as well, so we have a great selection here.” Carol nodded knowingly. She also suspected Gen had added a few select bottles to the mix, knowing that Carol (and her money) would be there tonight.

A round of applause broke out and Carol turned to see Genevieve coming down from her loft, pausing on the stairs to offer a short wave. She wore a striking white suit with black pinstripes, and a black tuxedo shirt which hung open loosely in the front. Her gaze stopped somewhere towards the front of the gallery and Carol watched as she nodded her head and smirked at someone, while raising her bourbon glass in a mock toast. There was a familiar bright gleam in her eyes. It must be her muse, Carol thought - she arched her neck to try to see towards the opposite side of the gallery; but it was no use, there were at least a hundred people standing between her and the front of the room; as she was situated at the bar in the very back of the gallery. Carol sighed and returned her attention to the bar. “Mika, could I please have another?”

~***~

Therese was a little surprised to see Genevieve stare directly at her from the stairs, she thought for sure everyone was looking. She didn’t want to be outed as Gen’s plaything, though she didn’t quite know why. Gen had made her way down the stairs and over to where Therese was standing with Dannie and Phil. Genevieve was never one for public displays of affection, so it surprised Therese when Gen snaked an arm around her lower back and planted a soft kiss to her cheek; whispering in her ear - “you look truly stunning, my love.” Therese shivered. Gen had never thrown around the word “love.” Therese took a moment to steady herself. This must be a truly amazing dress, she thought.

Dannie was staring at them awkwardly. Although Phil had picked up on the fact they were seeing each other, Dannie had no idea. Gen reached over and pinched him on the cheeks. “So cute, this one,” she joked. Gen turned her attention back to Therese. “I’m going to go make my rounds, pimp myself out to the wealthy donors. I’ll come find you soon, ok?”

Therese nodded, “of course,” she said. “Take your time; and send someone this way with drinks, would ya?” Gen smiled as she turned, starting to survey the room for the wealthiest people to sweet talk.

Carol had almost finished her second bourbon when she saw Dannie McElroy with a small group of people in the center of the gallery. He was standing with a taller man and a stunning brunette woman in an incredible couture gown. The brunette turned her head in a gesture of laughter, and Carol almost fell out of her chair. It was Therese. Her Therese. Well, not hers. But there she was, she looked - otherworldly; ethereal. The dress hugged her curves and accentuated her hips, the plunging neckline drawing the eye to her chest, which was unadorned with jewelry and stood alone, her pale skin sparkling in the gallery lights.

Carol gasped and brought a hand to her face. She sunk further into the corner of the bar, hoping to remain unseen. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face Therese again, her whole body was on overdrive, heart racing, palms sweaty. Mika took this as a gesture to refill her glass; and Carol accepted it with thanks. Carol turned her back to the woman, afraid that continuing to look at her would drive her insane. She already felt lightheaded; her pulse pounding in her ears. What was Therese doing here, she clearly came with Dannie, but why was Dannie here? Carol’s head was spinning.

Minutes later, Carol felt a light tap on her shoulder and she nearly jumped off her bar stool; as she wheeled around to see Dannie McElroy standing before her. He was alone though, thank god. “Dr. Aird! It is you,” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry to startle you; I thought I saw you over here by the bar. It’s great to see you again! I’m applying for an MFA position next semester, I was hoping to maybe come by sometime and pick your brain about my application?” Dannie was clearly intoxicated, he was never this forward with anyone. Truth be told, he was a little worried that Therese would see Carol there and lose her cool.

Carol smiled brightly at him; she was so relieved it was him and not Therese who had spotted her. “Of course, Dannie; come by anytime. I’d love to take a look… hey what brings you here to the Cantrell gallery? I didn’t know you were into art.”

Dannie laughed. “You’d be right, for the most part,” he said. “But my brother Phil McElroy is one of Dr. Cantrell’s students; those are his pieces there, in the center;” he gestured to the center of the sculpture portion of the gallery.

Carol breathed a sigh of relief. Ok. That explains it all. “That’s wonderful Dannie, tell him congratulations from me. His work is truly beautiful.” She slid away from him slightly, hoping to insinuate that she wished to be alone again. He got the hint.

“Will do,” he said. “And I’ll be talking to you soon, Dr. Aird. Have a great night!”

Carol shook off the cool tendrils of panic that ran up and down her spine. She was relieved to see Dannie, but now her mind was racing about Genevieve. She felt the same absurd protectiveness rise up in her throat again, the same feeling she had the night of Harge’s dinner party, when Richard had insulted Therese at her dinner table. Carol suddenly felt an inexplicable responsibility to make sure the predatory eyes of Genevieve Cantrell didn’t find her green-eyed goddess amongst the crowd tonight. She knew Gen too well, seeing Therese in a dress like that would turn Gen into a lioness, ready to pounce, to scratch… to devour.

~***~

Carol spent the next hour keeping one eye on Therese and one on Genevieve, making sure the two never crossed paths. Gen had finished making her rounds with the donors and was making her way towards the front of the hall to make her closing remarks. Carol took a minute to gather her wits; and breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost over. She was startled though, because Gen was moving towards where Therese was standing with Phil and Dannie, slightly off to the right of the podium. Luckily, an very old woman grabbed Gen’s arm as she passed, and Gen was sucked into conversation.

Satisfied that the wealthy older woman would keep Genevieve occupied for at least a few moments, Carol allowed herself a few final moments to soak in the sight of Therese. She was truly stunning. Tears came to Carol’s eyes and she brushed them away quickly. Only a few more minutes, she thought to herself. I can do this.

Therese was growing tired of standing and of smiling. She felt like her cheeks were on fire from too much smiling. And she was sweltering hot. Therese had barely left the gallery floor all night, and that’s where the display lights were the brightest, and the hottest; especially around Phil’s sculptures. Dannie noticed Therese fanning herself with a napkin and laughed. “You know, Therese, if you’re so hot you can just take off that ridiculous scarf you’re wearing,” he teased. Therese had been thinking about it all night. She knew Gen didn’t care if anyone saw the scratches. And why should Therese care? No one was going to ask her to explain herself, no one was watching her. And the heat combined with the slight constriction of the scarf around her neck made her feel like she was going to pass out.

Carol was watching Therese as she fanned herself, thinking of licking the sweat off her brow, licking the sweat down the creases of her breasts. The bourbon had slowly drifted into her bloodstream and combined with the anxiety caused by seeing Therese, causing her to daydream.

When Therese removed her scarf, Carol’s eyes found her neck like lasers and fell upon the deep gouges in her skin. The whole room seemed to darken, everything spinning in slow motion. Carol’s eyes flew to the painting near where Therese was standing, the two forms coalescing in her mind to form one; the dark pool of blood under Therese’s feet in the painting mimicking the dark red of her dress; seeming to ripple and wave like it was alive.

Her mind was a frenzy as she glanced up to see Gen standing again on the loft stairs; she was staring directly at Therese and she watched as they made eye contact, both women brought a hand to their left cheek; Gen brushing her own hand to her mouth and kissing it softly while staring intently at Therese. Suddenly, Gen’s words were buzzing through Carol’s mind a mile a minute, as Carol continued staring at her love - “it’s like she’s trying to fuck her way out of her own skin…”

Carol suddenly turned and violently wretched, vomiting all over the corner of the bar; her chest heaving, breathing labored. She glanced up apologetically at Mika, who brushed it off reassuringly, and quickly got some rags to clean the space. Carol had managed to pick exactly the right time to cause a scene; as they had just stopped the music in preparation for Gen to make her comments.

When Carol turned to look back at the scene of her despair; she saw Therese staring directly at her. As soon as those green eyes registered her face, they widened and Therese leaned forward slightly; clearly breathing heavily. Carol felt as if the air had been sucked from the room and all the guests had faded to the periphery, shadowed and blurry in her vision. Her eyes were focused on her angel; staring back at her - seeing her. Therese could always see her. It felt as if a string had been pulled taut between them, and was pulling their hearts towards one another like an elastic coil; ripping as it did so. Carol stood, and Therese took a few steps towards her before stopping cold when she saw Gen staring down from above.

Gen was paralyzed. She looked down at Carol, and then to Therese as the scene unfolded before her. No one needed to speak, everything was written all over their faces; communicated with their eyes. Gen watched as Therese’s eyes widened to take in the sight of Carol, she watched how her nostrils flared with her breathing, a feeble attempt to keep her emotions at bay. Gen could feel the tension between those two women as clearly as though a force field had been generated; pulling them together like magnets; pushing out the crowd and the chatter and creating a hush over the whole gallery.

Gen cleared her throat and spoke calmly from the stairs. “I would like to thank you all for coming tonight. I had prepared some more remarks, but this has been quite a long evening for us all, and I appreciate all everyone has done for this art program and for these students. Gary’s bar next door has kindly agreed to host an after-party; and I hope to see some of you over there in a few moments. Thank you again.” Her voice didn’t waver, not a single vibration. She grasped the railing of the staircase and hung her head limply as the guests filed out; everyone leaving quickly after sensing the tension in the room; the hurried remarks.

Therese felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest while it was still beating. She saw Carol and everything shook and spun inside of her, mind reeling, chest aching. How did Carol know…why would she become so violently ill at the sight of Therese? She thought of her marking then, of the painting; and then her mind went to Carol’s painting which hung in Gen’s back gallery. Gen’s words were floating across her vision like stars; “a woman I used to….know; she was a bourbon drinker.”

The recognition hit Therese like a stone to her temples, and she sprung forward; “Carol!,” she shouted, as the blonde woman was slowly filtering out the door; trying to blend in with the crowd. “Carol!” Therese ran towards the side door, hoping to cut off the crowd and reach Carol in the front; but as she ran down the small alley and across to the front doors she saw the last of the patrons filtering into Gary’s pub and she saw the top of Carol’s blonde hair as she disappeared into a cab and it screeched away.

Therese looked back through the glass to the studio and saw Genevieve standing on the stairs. She came back inside and locked the door behind her, started up the stairs to face Gen. She came to a stop standing one stair below her so they were looking each other in the eye. Gen had tears streaming down her face, and Therese realized she had never seen her cry before.

Gen slapped her, hard, across her already scratched cheek. Therese didn’t even flinch. Gen turned and ran up the rest of the stairs and Therese followed her. Both women crying now, Gen wheeled around and started throwing punches at Therese, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to grasp Gen’s arms and hold her still. Several hard blows landed on Therese’s arms and chest. Finally, Therese was able to capture one of Gen’s wrists, and she spun her around. Therese’s strong arms encircled Gen’s tiny frame from behind as Gen struggled and sobbed. Therese came to her knees, bringing Gen with her, lowering her softly to the ground. Therese held her there as she shivered and sputtered against her.

Carol had asked the cab driver to circle back, and she was watching Therese and Gen through the side door window in the alley. She watched as Gen slapped Therese, the same familiar anger and fierce protectiveness rising up in her throat like hot bile. But then - she watched as Therese subdued Gen; she watched as Therese fed her with a tenderness she didn’t deserve. And then, for the second time that night, Carol Aird vomited.


	11. The Ending is Just the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so thankful for the great discussions and thoughts generated from the last chapter, and those comments really helped motivate and shape this story! Thank you for all those who have taken the time to comment, I really appreciate it. 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I love the first part for its sincerity and humanity; and the second part for Therese's guts - you'll see what I mean. I've sorta got an epic reunion planned....Thanks, everyone!!!

** Chapter 11: The Ending is Just the Beginning **

**_Fall - Winter 2012_ **

 

Therese woke the morning after the gala on the floor of Gen’s loft; her entire body aching. Her head was pounding despite not having had much to drink during the party. As soon as she opened her eyes, the events of the previous evening came rushing back to her; and she felt nauseous.

She tried to piece together the sequence of events which started when she heard commotion by the back bar - Carol had puked all over the bartender right as the music was turned off. Therese saw her there, blonde hair glowing under unforgiving studio lights; and it had felt as if all the air was sucked out of the room. She felt pulled towards Carol, inexplicably drawn to her presence like a moth to a flame.

It was as if a gallon bucket of ice water had been tossed in her face, the way recognition struck as she looked back and forth between Carol and Gen. It had frozen her in her tracks, paralyzed her. The look in Gen's eyes was one Therese had never seen before, and she realized through the way Gen was staring at Carol, an edge of rage outlining her despair; that whatever history was there had begun long ago, and it had been forged in blood, and in pain.

Carol had gazed at Gen with a look of fear, only slightly edged with surprise. Therese watched them staring at each other and felt the same familiar pull that drew from the pit of her belly the night Carol had placed her palm to the office window; shutting her out. She felt pulled to find Carol's arms and crawl into them; to cover herself with Carol's body like a blanket; to just be near her. It was as organic a feeling to Therese as breathing. She hadn't felt it before that night, and she had certainly not felt it since.

Therese had not heard any of Gen's remarks, she was staring into Carol's eyes and her mind was swimming in them; lost to all sense of time and space. As reality caught up to her brain, she had shouted out to Carol - but she was already gone, and then she was too late. Her feet felt like she was moving through quicksand as she ran towards her, her heart dropping like a stone as she watched Carol get into the cab. When she finally caught her breath she was standing alone outside the studio, and Therese realized in that moment that she was the most alone she had ever been.

~***~

The rest of the night was a blur to Therese, she felt as if she was just trying to keep Gen grounded, keep her from flying away. She should have left, should have gone after Carol, but all that was aborted when she saw the tears in Genevieve's eyes. Gen was hurting, and somehow what she saw between Carol and Therese had done the hurting. There was clearly a history between the two of them, Therese thought again of Carol's painting hanging on Gen's back studio, obviously a portrait of Gen herself. Therese needed to work it out, but she couldn't just leave Gen in the state she was in.

So Therese had let Gen grate her nails up and down her back, across her abdomen and pelvis; scurrying, hurried marks like a cat in heat. She had let Gen fuck her on the floor, fingers hard and stiff inside her; teeth grating across her neck. But everything had changed. Therese felt no jolt of pleasure as skin was punctured, no flood of moisture as she was slapped and bit. Therese felt only pain; as if a switch had been turned in her mind. Every inch of her skin which was razed by Gen lit up like a flame underneath at the thought of Carol touching her there, soothing her; melting the pain away. Every touch and every mark felt like a lie. Therese sobbed herself to sleep, naked on the wooden floor with broken glass all around from Genevieve’s rage - shredding the moonlight like a kaleidoscope.

Thoughts of the night crowded her vision like a bad hangover, the morning light now reflecting off the shattered glass all over the loft, burning and stinging her eyes. Therese slowly got up and walked down the stairs to find Gen standing at her easel which she had set up in the back studio, near Carol’s painting. Gen looked to be in much better shape than Therese - had she showered? Her hair was up, she wore dark rimmed glasses to conceal the circles under her eyes. Therese approached Gen wearing only a robe; hanging open in the front. There were no secrets between them, especially now. Therese lightly laid her hand on Genevieve’s shoulder; but as she tried to move closer to embrace her, Gen stepped away. When Gen spoke, her voice was like gravel.

“I’ve spent nearly a decade of my life mending women’s heartbreak over Carol Aird,” she started. Therese moved to interrupt, but Gen silenced her with a finger to her lips. “You must let me explain, Therese; as best I can.” Therese just nodded and looked at the floor, unable to meet Gen’s gaze. “The first part of that decade was mending myself. I loved that woman, Therese - and if you ever repeat that I’ll hunt you down in your sleep. But I did. I loved her with recklessness, and abandon - a foolishness. And stepping away from her because I was afraid of those feelings remains the greatest regret of my life.”

Therese grasped Gen’s hand and squeezed. “Gen, I had no idea, I…”

“Of course you didn’t know,” Gen interrupted. “How could you? I have hidden it in my past like a darkness; like a secret. The only secret is my cowardice, though, I’m ashamed to admit. I walked away because the feelings I had for her scared me. I was terrified of not being in control.”Gen stood back away from her easel and put her paintbrushes in the tray, then turned her attention fully to Therese. “Years later, Abigail Gerhard and I were lovers; shortly after Carol had ended things with Abby. I buried myself in her skin trying to escape my own pain and realized I was only breaking my own heart over Carol all over again.”

Therese shivered. She hadn’t known about Carol and Abby. How used and lonely Gen must have felt. Therese knew what it was to be turned away by Carol after only a kiss, a few shared moments - she couldn’t imagine the turmoil of losing Carol after a lengthy relationship, only for it to resurface again through Abby.

“But, you - Therese…” Genevieve started to speak again and her voice caught, choking back a sob. Therese took a step towards her but Gen held out a hand firmly. Fresh boundaries had already been newly re-established. Genevieve continued, her voice shaky but not breaking - “I’ve broken my own heart three times now over that woman. I’m done.” She wiped her soiled hands on her apron, took it off and slung it across the easel. “One would think the first would have been the most painful - but… no. This one is.” She took off her glasses and stared into Therese’s eyes. Then she brought her hand to Therese’s cheek, and she held it there as tears flowed freely from both women. Therese was silent. She didn’t know what to say. Gen replaced her glasses, turned, and walked out of the studio.

~***~

Therese felt the fire within her multiply that night, and she couldn’t sleep. All night she sat awake, devising her plan. She went to talk with Dr. Morgenstern the very next morning, her Young Writers Guild award letter in hand, and prostrated herself to Columbia University. She apologized for her hasty departure, for the months she had spent not writing. She promised she had a new focus, new goals. Morgenstern saw only dollar signs and publicity in her eyes. Together, they devised a plan.

Later that day, Therese went to Dannie’s apartment and asked him for the first favor she had ever asked for in their entire friendship. She wanted to have a party. She told him she was rejoining Columbia, and she wanted to drink and celebrate. Dannie was all too happy to oblige and started making calls. He was just happy Therese was away from Genevieve, and that she was writing again. He would deal with the details later.

~***~

Carol missed her meeting with Morgenstern the day after the gala. She was lucky she was awake and vertical for a portion of the day; if she was honest. She felt old, and withered. She couldn’t have anticipated the physical toll this reunion would take on her. Just seeing Therese made her feel empty inside, all over again. All the false packaging she had placed around her life, like tissue paper on a present - was revealed as empty - useless. Her paintings seemed suddenly null and void, her writing seemed topical - and for good reason - the depths of her soul belonged to Therese and thus to the darkness only; like coins tossed into a well.

Carol was at home in front of her vanity mirror, preparing for the inter-departmental consortium. Several speakers would present their work, usually masters or Ph.D. students within the arts departments, and Carol was hoping for some fresh motivation - something new and different to remind her how vibrant the arts could be; how lucky she was to be a part of this community and its students. Abby was to pick her up in ten minutes. She couldn’t muster the energy to pull off more than skinny jeans and a long cardigan; her makeup simple and restrained. No amount of concealer or blush could hide the darkness under her eyes, the mark of perpetual fatigue that wore on her like waves on the sand. Carol knew she needed to find Therese, she needed to warn her about Gen. But something inside Carol told her that Therese already knew. Something told her it was already too late.

~***~

Carol was absentmindedly flipping through her emails as she sat waiting for the program to begin. They were in the Columbia Auditorium; a large, two-tiered presentation hall that housed not only the fine arts programs including the plays for the Theatre Department, but also the graduations each year. Carol had found her place in the front, about seven rows from the stage, and was waiting for Abby to join her.

Abby plopped down next to Carol just as the lights were dimming, and Carol looked at her; the judgement etched all over her face. Finally, things were back to normal; Abby was always the late one. Abby playfully cuffed her on the shoulder and shrugged off her heavy cardigan. She whispered in Carol’s ear; “this better be quick, I promised some people we would meet them for drinks after.” She smirked as Carol helped her out of her cardigan, her right shoulder was caught, and she was causing a scene. Carol giggled. “Oh Abby, you do know how to make any event more fun.” Abby just grinned as the last of the stage lights went down, and Dr. Morgenstern appeared onstage.

Morgenstern’s bald head appeared to glow spectacularly under the stage lights, as the crowd quieted and he started his opening remarks. “I would like to thank you all for coming, once again, to the Columbia Arts Collective semi-annual Consortium,” he said; to feeble applause. Carol thought he saw a bead of sweat trickle down his brow as he continued.

“Tonight,” he said, “I have the privilege of introducing a very decorated Columbia graduate student. At the young age of 29, Therese Belivet is a student in our MFA program for Creative Writing.” Carol froze, her eyes initially pinned on Morgenstern, but then flicking about, looking for Therese in the wings of the stage. Abby’s hand gripped Carol’s tightly as he continued. “She has recently been chosen as a finalist award winner for the Young Writers Guild in the area of fictional short stories; and it gives me great pleasure to welcome her to the stage for a ‘dry run’ of her acceptance speech and reading for the Guild. Ladies and Gentleman - Ms. Therese Belivet!”

The audience applauded healthily and Carol’s eyes were trained on the stage as Therese appeared from the wings, wearing a simple black suit with a beige tank underneath; stylish but understated. Therese’s eyes seemed to scan the audience, and Carol felt Abby’s hand grip her own more tightly. Carol was shocked, and she suddenly felt paralyzed; glued to her seat. She could do nothing but watch as her angel took the stage; with an air of confidence that invoked both pride and wantonness in Carol. Carol crossed her legs, steeled her demeanor. As the stage lights illuminated Therese’s face, Carol couldn’t help but let out a muffled gasp.

Therese waited for the applause to die down before she spoke, an air of confidence around her that betrayed her own heart; beating wildly in her chest as she desperately searched the audience for Carol; looking for those blue eyes to hold anchor. The way the spotlights lit the stage, she couldn’t see the audience at all. She continued, undeterred. She had a plan.

“I want to thank Dr. Morgenstern and the English Department for allowing me to speak at this Consortium on such short notice,” Therese said, her voice finding it’s legs in the deep auditorium acoustics. “I was shocked to find that my work was selected for the Young Writers’ Guild this year, and to be a finalist is such an unprecedented honor.” Therese stopped to clear her throat; Carol grasped for Abby’s other hand, anything to anchor herself to reality as Therese spoke.

“Every writer has a process, and every writer worth her salt has mentors, and editors, and teachers who put her in a position to succeed.” Therese’s eyes were still desperately scanning the audience, green seeking blue; but the lights were drowning out all hope of her making eye contact with Carol. Therese continued, her voice slightly more shaky now: “for me, all three of those roles and more were fulfilled by my professor; my mentor…” she paused, only for a brief moment, but enough for Carol to fill her lungs with air and steel herself, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. Therese continued - “Carol Aird.” She took a brief pause before launching into her speech again.

“I know there are many people, from many departments in this room. There are members of the English undergraduate department as well as the MFA division as well as other sister divisions in the arts. I hope you would indulge me now, before I read my story. I would like to try something.” Therese set down her notes and looked directly into the audience.

“If you have been touched by the teachings of Professor Aird; be it as an undergraduate in seminar, as a graduate student in small classes, or as a colleague; please - would you be so kind as to stand now?” Carol’s eyes were wide, still taking in all that Therese was saying. She didn’t notice Abby leaping to her feet beside her, she didn’t see the MFA students near the front of the auditorium; all standing in unison.

“That’s right, stand up!,” Therese shouted into the microphone. “I want to see all those that Dr. Aird has inspired, on your feet, right now.” The auditorium was initially silent as literally hundreds of students stood from their chairs. In the balcony, where the undergraduates were sitting, someone began to clap; and then it became a free-for-all. The clapping started and it was like a wave, echoing throughout the auditorium. Therese could finally look down into the seats immediately in front of her; where the people had angled towards Carol and were cheering - and she found Carol. She found her eyes and she looked into them and she wouldn’t let them go. Like a magnet, she held Carol there as the auditorium roared around them, like waves crashing against an impenetrable wall; their eyes locked on one another like a lighthouse calling a ship to shore.

Therese spoke up then, finally, her voice rising over the crowd - “If it were Carol up here now; she would say ‘quit it now, all of you; and sit the fuck down.’” The crowd erupted in laughter as they all took their seats again. Therese was beaming, her dimples in full display, as she had finally found Carol in the crowd. She continued by reading her award-winning essay; never breaking eye contact with the woman who had inspired her. The woman she loved. The woman she would fight to get back. She would break through that glass door this time, if given the chance. Carol just smiled up at her with tears in her eyes as Therese read the story Carol had already memorized by heart.


	12. I Ain't No Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter as well as the inspiration comes from a great song by Birdy called "No Angel." Check it out. 
> 
> I'm feel so privileged to be writing these characters. Thank you for the support and for your comments - they mean so much to me.

** Chapter 12: I Ain’t No Angel **

**_Winter, 2012_ **

> _“I want to tell you that I'm sorry_  
>  _But that’s not for me to say._  
>  _You can have my heart, my soul, my body_  
>  _If you can promise not to go away._
> 
> _I ain’t no angel, I never was_  
>  _But I never hurt you, it’s not my fault_  
>  _You see those eggshells, they’re broken up_  
>  _A million pieces - strewn out across the ground.”_
> 
> _~ No Angel, Birdy_

 

Therese’s head was spinning as she graciously accepted comments and praise after her speech. She felt hot and lightheaded, and she knew it wasn’t just from the stage lights. She kept one eye on Carol at all times, to make sure she didn’t sneak out before Therese got a chance to speak with her. Therese greeted her fellow MFA students warmly, spreading the word about the party at Dannie’s place later that night. She was genuinely excited to see them all again, and she knew she was going to truly be turning over a new leaf with this - her second go at her MFA at Columbia. She felt lighter somehow; happier. She was going into everything this time with her eyes wide open.

Carol knew she had to speak to Therese after her presentation, but she felt the familiar sensation of fear creeping up her spine. She found herself looking around the auditorium and squinting her eyes at anyone holding a camera. She saw a young man with a camera approaching Therese on stage, and she started to sink into her chair; trying to make herself invisible; but it was only another MFA student looking to get a selfie with Therese.

Carol tried to shake the feeling, but her thoughts kept coming back to Rindy. Over the past year, she and Rindy had grown so close. Rindy was at such a delicate age, just finding out her talents, her wants and desires. Harge had grown increasingly distant, spending days at a time away from the apartment. Carol just naturally assumed he was having an affair, and it pleased her to no end to be able to share the apartment alone with her daughter. Harge’s angry streak had initially quelled after she ended things with Therese, but now he had settled back into his usual demeanor again; blowing up after the smallest disagreement or losing his temper when Rindy misbehaved. Carol often was frightened that he would become violent with Rindy, but that hadn’t happened. He always seemed to know just the right time to retreat to his bedroom, leaving a storm of rage trailing behind him.

He had been violent towards Carol, in the past, but that too had changed. He wouldn’t want to do anything now to threaten the upper hand he had so delicately gained. Carol was a smart lady. If he started throwing punches she would have them documented and she and Rindy would be out of the house in a heartbeat; he knew that. No - he had to keep the balance so he could keep his family together. Because without the family, he didn’t have the Ross name; and more importantly - Ross money.

Carol sighed and steeled herself as she watched the last of Therese’s avid admirers leave the stage. She couldn’t help but remember one of the first times she ever saw Therese; in a large lecture hall. The room had been much smaller than this, but the situation was eerily similar. Carol had just ushered out the last of the clingy students, only to look up and see Therese glued to her seat in the otherwise empty hall. Their situations were reversed now; and Therese looked down at Carol and caught her eye, the two of them frozen in place for a moment as the last of the small groups of people filtered out of the auditorium; heavy wooden doors slamming loudly behind them. Therese gestured towards the wings of the stage, indicating that Carol should find her there.

Carol took one last lingering look around the auditorium and then creeped up the back stairs and around the black curtains like a maze, trying to find Therese. She found her standing in the corner behind the third set of curtains, against the wall of gears which controlled the curtains and large set pieces. Carol’s heart started beating quickly, seeing her there. Her hair was shorter, her arm muscles seemed bigger, and she was definitely thinner. She had removed her blazer and her arms were covered in bruises and scratches.

Carol moved towards Therese and took a hand in her own. Carol was mesmerized, gently tracing the scratches up her arm with a finger, until Therese redirected her attention with a hand to her chin; gently lifting to bring their gaze to each other again. Carol gasped when she met Therese’s eyes, the raw power of their connection drawing all the breath out of her chest. Therese moved towards Carol slowly, her hand still on Carol’s cheek, and brought their lips together softly. It was so unlike the first time they came together back in Carol’s office - all angst and power and teeth clashing. This was soft, gentle.

Therese was in the lead now, gently moving her lips against Carol’s; a hand sneaking up her back under her sweater. Carol moaned and gasped into her mouth, undone by her own feelings. Carol felt herself melting into Therese. She felt warmth pool not only between her legs, but in her heart. Carol was concerned by the sensation, a prickling, tingling feeling in her chest like her heart may explode. Therese’s tongue charged forward, caressing Carol’s softly, gently, commencing the dance. Carol felt her heart well up into her throat. Carol’s tears fell then, against her own permission, and Carol broke the kiss with a hard swallow, head down again.

Therese spoke in staccato gasps, her careful plan was shattered when she saw those blue eyes so close to her own. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to just - to just do that.”

Carol smiled up at her and grasped her hand tightly; “I’m glad you did,” she said softly. Therese felt conflicted now, as the tears were still streaming down Carol’s cheeks. Therese reached out to wipe them away; and Carol straightened her back suddenly, threw a sleeve of her cardigan up with a sniffle, dashing the moisture from her face. Carol rested her forehead against Therese’s; able to avoid her magnetic gaze this way. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” Carol whispered. They stood there in silence that way for a while, as they both took in the power of the emotions they were experiencing, still breathing heavily, pulses racing.

It was Therese who finally broke away, with a deep sigh of regret for having to do so. “I’m having a party,” she said. “At my friend Dannie’s place. Just to celebrate, you know - coming back to Columbia and for the young writers guild thing.” Carol averted her gaze again, she couldn’t bear to watch Therese make this pitch when she knew she would have to decline. Therese continued, her voice softer now. “It would really mean a lot to me if you would come.”

Carol felt her heart pang, icicles breaking off and searing her own skin from within. She felt the same pain of loss creep up again, like an unwanted acid churning in her stomach. She shook her head subtly. “Therese, my situation has not changed,” she stated with a definitiveness, with a steady voice. Therese snapped her head up, narrowing her eyes at Carol’s words. A look of recognition set in, and then suddenly Therese was unreadable, a barrier erected quickly. Suddenly all Carol could see were the scratches and bruises on her neck; jumping out at her as if they were illuminated from within.

Carol spoke instinctively then; the words tumbling out before she could think, before she could censor herself. “Therese…about Genevieve - she…”

Therese stared back at her; green eyes filled with defiance. “She what, Carol?,” Therese asked, boldly.

Carol forced herself to meet Therese’s gaze once again. “That woman will destroy you.”

A pause, and then Therese surprised Carol by laughing out loud. “What makes you think I was in any way whole to begin with?,” Therese challenged. “Genevieve took the broken pieces of me and made them feel important. She helped me to feel again, when I felt plagued by a numbness that I thought would freeze me to death. But I was already destroyed when I met her, and I think you know that.”

Carol turned away, a hand to her face. She felt scared for the first time since she was a child. She was scared for Therese, for her future if she continued to fall under Genevieve’s spell. She was scared for her daughter, for Rindy’s future if her family was torn apart and she was forced to live with a father who cared very little about her wants and interests, let alone her well being. She felt scared for herself, of how she would cope with seeing Therese every day while feeling conflict within her heart that threatened to split her in two.

Therese could see that Carol’s mind was wandering, the moment had been broken, like a crack in glass that slowly let water in; obscuring the clarity. “Anyway, I uh - I hope to see you tonight,” Therese whispered. And then it was Therese who walked away, quickly disappearing behind the black curtains; leaving Carol as alone as she felt.

~***~

Carol was surprised to hear commotion in the kitchen when she returned to the apartment that night. She had spent several hours just walking around campus, trying to clear her head. Trying not to think of the fun Therese was having at her party. Trying not to think of Therese at all. Harge was never usually home before 11 or midnight, if he came home at all. As she deposited her coat onto the rack in the foyer she looked down at the credenza which usually housed all of their unwanted mail. There was a copy of the Young Writer’s Guild Journal lying on top, it had been opened; the plastic removed.

Carol wandered into the kitchen, Harge was busy trying to make something - was it spaghetti? The kitchen smelled terrible. Carol walked up behind him and he jumped. She smiled gently at him and took the pan from his hand; disposed of the burnt tomato sauce and started fresh. Harge looked at her with a gaze she could not read; and poured them two glasses of wine, while Carol tried to rectify his pasta situation.

It was Harge who broke the silence. “I saw your little crush made it into a national journal. You must be quite proud. Or maybe you feel guilty, since she quit Columbia because you preyed upon her like a fucking viper.”

Carol dropped the spoon into the sauce on the stove violently; and wheeled to face Harge’s accusing face. “How dare you?” she shouted.

“Lower your voice,” Harge whispered; spitting when he spoke.

“No,” Carol said, “I won’t. I actually hope Rindy hears. Let her witness the cruelty with which her father treats her mother.” Harge cowered a bit then, taking a large gulp of his wine.

Carol tossed the pan into the sink and started the water, creating a sound diversion as she spoke from her heart. She hadn’t planned to stand up to Harge like this on this night. She hadn’t even planned to see Harge at all. But she felt suddenly steeled and motivated by his comments. She was so angry she felt as if she was engulfed in flames. She just had Therese right in front of her again - and this man - this asshole - had so penetrated her mind that she threw it away again before she could even begin.

“Harge, I’m going to see Therese again.” She gave that a minute to sink in.

Harge poured himself another glass of wine; his hands shaking as he responded: “So you’re willing to jeopardize not only your family, but both of your careers? Oh, that’s bold.”

Carol just shook her head and laughed. Everything seemed so clear to her in that moment. “I’m not willing to risk anything. And neither are you, Harge,” she stated; resolutely. “You think I don’t know how much of the Ross family money is tied up in your lab?”

This clearly hit home; Harge slammed his wine glass on the counter, snapping the stem, wine splashing everywhere. “Goddammit!,” he exclaimed.

Carol just smirked and continued the assault. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without this house, without this money. I talked to my father. I know it isn’t only the house that matters to you. I know what percentage of your lab is funded by the Ross family directly, not to mention subsidiaries of my father’s company. Your all so important scientific contributions would be null and void if I left and took my father’s money with me.”

Harge was paralyzed, fear in his eyes. All he has ever cared about was his work. The idea of not being able to pursue his scientific endeavors paralyzed him more than the thought of losing his own wife, his own family. Carol struck while the iron was hot, a blow to the gut that solidified her upper hand. “If you try to take my daughter away from me I will sever every financial connection you have. You threaten to destroy my career? I’ll destroy yours faster than you can blink. Do you think my father cares one iota for the science he is funding? He cares about his daughter and his granddaughter; the rest is just window dressing.”

Carol was on fire now, a blaze lit behind her eyes. Harge could see it there, and he finally understood. The ball was in her court now. There was nothing he could do but hope that she would allow him to continue the life he had built. Carol’s rage had not died, though, she was still slamming doors all around the kitchen. “How could I have been so stupid!,” she cried. “How could I have let you control me for this long, like a fucking dog in a cage?” She shook her head - as much at herself as at Harge. Tonight had been her opportunity to win Therese back, to go to her party and to accept her rightful role at her side. And she had squandered it because she was afraid of this weasel of a man standing before her? Fuck that.

Carol glanced into Rindy’s bedroom to see her fast asleep with her earphones on. Thank god she was spared from that spectacle. Carol tucked her in tighter, and kissed her on the forehead. Then she grabbed her coat and slammed the door behind her, searching for an uber while she simultaneously searched the records in her phone for Dannie McElroy’s address.

~***~

Therese enjoyed her party. She really did. She loved seeing all of her MFA colleagues, and she was bolstered by their faith in her; and their encouragement. She couldn’t help herself, though. Every single time the door opened she looked towards it, hoping to see Carol appear in the threshold. She knew it was wishful thinking. Her mind drifted back to Carol’s words - “my situation hasn’t changed.” How crazy Therese had been to think that she could just pick up where she left off. Carol was still off limits. Carol still had her heart and held it behind bars. Therese began to see her life in fragments. She would only be available to people in pieces. Her future would be at the mercy of whomever would accept fragments of a human being into their lives. Never a whole.

Therese had been swimming a lot lately. It was the only form of exercise she could rely on to totally remove herself from her surroundings. She was still very self-conscious about her body; so she felt very lucky to be owed a favor by one Phil McElroy. Phil worked at one of the Columbia rec centers as a lifeguard to earn extra money to make his sculptures. Even though he had received a scholarship from the Arts Department, he still needed money to support his extravagant lifestyle of travel and designer drugs.

Therese had been using Phil’s spare keys to get into the rec center at night to swim. There was something about the cool water that calmed her. The only light was the moon that shone through the glass walls surrounding the pool; brightened as it reflected off the snow. She could swim in the darkness and let it swallow her. She felt powerful; alive. Dannie was walking around the apartment clearing the last of the bottles as Therese got up quickly from the ragged chair she had been occupying. “I need to go for a swim,” Therese said.

Phil tossed her the keys. "Take my spare. But be good, I don’t need any trouble. I need that job, Therese.”

Therese smiled and thanked him. “I’ll be careful, Phil. I promise.” He winked at her as she grabbed her gym bag and disappeared into the night.

~***~

The party was just wrapping up in the early morning when Dannie heard a knock at the door. He and Phil were walking around the apartment with garbage bags clearing empty beer bottles and wine glasses. "Jesus, what time is it?" Dannie asked, startled by the intrusion.

"Almost 2:30," Phil said.

"I'll just ignore it," Dannie quipped. "Who comes to a party 7 hours late?" They continued to clean, but the knocking on the door became louder and more insistent. "Ok, Jesus, hold on!" Dannie was taken aback when he yanked the door open to reveal a tall, statuesque blond. "Dr. Aird? What - what are you doing here," Dannie was stammering. He was pretty drunk.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, Dannie, but I really need to see Therese."

"She's not here, Dr.-"

"Please, call me Carol," the blonde interjected.

"Ok. Carol. Therese isn't here, she's at the pool."

Carol's lip snarled. "She's where? Is that a euphemism or something?"

Danny giggled - way too loudly. He was clearly quite intoxicated and Carol felt a wave of fear thinking of Therese being just as intoxicated, navigating the city at night, alone. Dannie finally collected himself to respond. "No, she's like, swimming at the pool. She swims, it's like, what she does when she's stressed or really sad or stuff." He caught what he had said too late- it was already out. Therese was really sad.

A nauseating wave of guilt washed over Carol. "What kind of pool is open at 2:30 in the morning?,” Carol inquired, skeptical.

"Oh, Phil here - my brother. Sorry I didn't introduce you. He works at the Columbia rec center and he lets Therese borrow his extra set of keys to the aquatic center sometimes at night when she looks like she needs it."

A drunk Phil chimed in: "yeah, she looked extra stabby tonight and also sorta looked like she may have joined a fight club....I ain't getting in her way."

The heat of anger was boiling up in Carol, almost to a full blown rage, coloring her cheeks, quickening her heart. Therese hadn't joined a fight club. She was just fucking Genevieve Cantrell. Which apparently could be mistaken as the same thing. And Gen had taken it way, way too far this time. Carol could wring that skinny bitch's neck as she visualized the dark bruises she had seen on Therese's cheek. ”Tell me how to get in. I need to see her. Now, Dannie."

Dannie had been nodding off while standing up, but was jolted by the tone in Carol’s voice. Before Dannie had a chance to respond, Phil chimed in; “you can have my keys, Carol.” Dannie shot him a dirty look that was not inconspicuous. “What?” Phil cautiously proceeded - “she says she needs to see her, says it’s important. Look, Dannie - I’m worried about Terry I don’t think it would be a bad idea for someone to check on her. I shouldn’t have given her the spare keys; she shouldn’t swim when she’s drunk like this. Not to mention if she fucking gets me caught I’ll lose my job.”

Dannie paused to think for a moment, but he was still clearly reluctant to help Carol. “Therese swims with earphones in and music blaring. She’s alone in a building where she expects to remain alone; and it’s pretty dark in there at night. If you go in there you’ll scare her to death.”

Carol was touched by the kindness she sensed behind Dannie’s words, but she was undeterred. She reached out a hand to touch Dannie’s shoulder. “I know you’re just being protective towards your friend,” she said; soothingly. “But you have to understand that I’m also trying to do what is best for her. I found out something… I just really need to see her, Dannie, and it isn’t something I can wait to do. Not for another week, not until tomorrow, not for another minute.” Even in his intoxicated state, Dannie picked up on the tone in her voice, her jagged breathing, the intense penetrating gaze from steely blue eyes.

“Ok,” he said, finally. Carol was touched to see a tear roll down his cheek, and she wondered how much he knew. He wiped his nose on his sleeve in a gesture that mimicked Therese’s habit so closely it touched Carol’s heart. In a shaky voice, he said; “you have to help her, Carol. I need my friend back.” Carol simply nodded; and pulled him into a hug. She glanced up to Phil, and he tossed her the keys. She caught them with one hand and was out the door.

~***~

Carol’s hands were shaking as she walked towards the fitness center. As she approached, she was initially broken-hearted; as she didn’t see any signs of life through the darkened windows. There was a low light coming from the pool, and she realized it was being lit from below the water. The only other light was from the moon against the floor to ceiling windows. As she walked closer and pressed her face against the window, she could see a slight rippling of the water in the far lane. Carol breathed a sigh of relief. Therese was still there.

Carol used the key Phil had given her to let herself in through the staff pool room entrance. The smell of chlorine filled her nostrils as she made her way past the filters and heaters to the windows along the far wall of the room. Here, she could watch Therese underwater. This is where the coaches would watch and take notes on the swimmers’ technique. Lit from below, she saw Therese in the far lane, moving quickly; her form beautiful; her shadow lengthy from the moonlight.

Carol had spent the entire ride from Dannie's thinking of how she could distract Therese without frightening her. She couldn’t just grab her arm at the end of the pool, couldn’t just lie in wait for her in the dressing room. She had to make some sort of grand gesture. Something to show Therese that she was no longer scared. Something to show her that Therese held all the cards. Carol found her way onto the pool deck, which was lit only by moonlight and the lights below the water’s surface. She stood in the corner of the room for some time, just watching Therese glide through the water.

When she had finally found and compiled her nerves, Carol walked slowly to the shallow end of the pool. From the end where she was standing, she was still well-concealed in the shadows. Carol watched as Therese made a flawless flip turn in the shallow end, strong legs pressing off the wall, catapulting her away from Carol. As Therese disappeared towards the other end of the pool, Carol took a deep breath and jumped into the shallow end - in Therese’s lane. Carol’s cardigan and jeans filled rapidly with water, weighing her down. The cold of the water was like a slap to the face. Carol realized then that she was doing the right thing. She felt a sharp clarity and smiled into the dark natatorium.

In the distance, she saw Therese make her turn at the other end of the pool, and then she watched as strong arms started swimming towards her. As Therese closed the distance between them, Carol took a deep breath and sank under the surface - waiting for Therese to come to her.

Therese was approaching the shallow wall and she saw something in her way. Legs came into view and a jolt of panic shot through Therese. “This is how I’m going to die,” she thought. “An intruder in the rec center at night. I can see the headlines now…” Her rogue thoughts died away as she approached the shallow end of the pool. As she took strong strokes towards her assailant she saw blonde hair fall into her view. She squinted her eyes to see matching blue eyes, wide open- underneath the water; blonde hair flowing around like a halo.

Therese found her footing in the shallow water and stood up suddenly, Carol mimicked her movements and came to the surface with a sputter and a cough. “Carol…?” Therese inquired.

Carol wiped her eyes and stared directly at Therese. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to your party,” Carol whispered. Therese laughed gently, her whole body drawn towards Carol like a magnet. Therese walked through shallow water to reach her water-logged love, and Therese took her in her arms, strongly grasping around her cardigan, the other hand wiping water from Carol’s brow.

Their lips met and Carol shivered, partially from emotion, partially from the cold water sinking in. Therese grinned against her lips and pulled away. “Let’s get you warmed up,” Therese said softly. Carol stopped her momentum and looked Therese in the eye. “I’m sorry, Therese,” Carol said. “I’m sorry for ever questioning what this is. This is all I have ever wanted. I need you.”

Therese silenced her with a finger to her lips. She pushed Carol back towards the edge of the pool and draped a towel over her shoulders. “What do you say we check out the facilities, Dr. Aird?” Therese had a deep smirk on her face, dimples in full view.

Both women pulled themselves out of the pool and sat near the edge. Carol grabbed Therese’s face, ignoring the bruises beneath her grasp. “Show me the way,” Carol sighed, and she held on tightly to Therese, an arm slung across her lower back, as Therese led them into the darkness.


	13. I'm Tired of Being Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! Just a quick few notes here, please read:
> 
> I am jumping in time again now, so please take note of the dates so you're not confused. I made careful breaks and notations before ever changing times on ya, promise ;) 
> 
> Also, the writing in the second part of this chapter is NOT something that is at ALL in my wheelhouse (aka NSFW), so please be kind. I simply tried to maintain true to the characters, as is always my main goal, and I hope that they ring true to you as well.
> 
> Comments would be SUPER especially appreciated here, as we are wading into new waters with the time jump again, and I'm eager to hear what you think of what was revealed there, not to mention the connection our main characters forged in this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you all again, so much, for being so awesome.

** Chapter 13: I’m Tired of Being Without You **

**_December, 2017_ **

 

> _“Let yourself be inert, wait until the incomprehensible power that has broken you restores you a little, I say a little, for henceforth you will always keep something broken about you. Tell yourself this, too, for it is a kind of pleasure to know that you will never love less, that you will never be consoled, that you will constantly remember more and more.”_  
>  _~ Marcel Proust_
> 
> _"Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving."_  
>  _~ Terry Pratchett_

 

Therese had drained her beer. She glanced at her watch. Still too much time to kill. Still not drunk enough. She thought about sitting here in this same space all those many nights ago; she and Carol. They would share cigarettes and edit each others work. There would be drinking, but definitely not craft beer. Bourbon only, poured special from a bottle Carol (or rather, Carol’s father) always kept filled behind the bar. Johnnie was their favorite bartender. He was gay, and he would always create privacy for them to be open with each other at the bar without feeling like they were being ogled.

Therese continued to let her mind drift as she refilled her beer at the wall of taps. She let out a deep sigh as she sat back down, but then she thought of the positive - her headache was gone. The hours were ticking away sure enough. Time waits for no one. Just six or seven more hours and she would be back on the plane.

She fumbled through her purse looking for a certain post-it note. She had deleted most of her New York contacts from her phone when she moved, except for Dannie and Phil. She found the tiny folded green paper in one of the inside pockets. She took a hearty sip of her beer as she unfolded it to reveal Genevieve Cantrell’s number. She briefly allowed herself to think back to her time with Gen, and she realized that she hadn’t been angry or sad about Gen in a long time. She continued to feel strongly connected to Gen through their past. Thinking of her didn’t confuse Therese; she didn’t hold any grudges. She secretly hoped Gen had made more progress in moving out of Carol’s wake than Therese had during these past three years. Maybe Gen had been able to escape; able to live.

The phone rang four or five times and Therese couldn’t help but picture Gen in her studio; yelling at no one - “hold on, hold on!” As predicted, Genevieve answered the line out of breath, with a jagged “Hello?”

“Gen….it’s Therese.” There was a moment of silence and Therese could hear things being set down, maybe a glass on a table; as if Gen was steadying herself.

Gen’s voice was deeper, darker somehow. “God, it’s good to hear your voice.” Therese couldn’t help but blush. She couldn’t believe that voice still had this effect on her, even after everything that had happened.

“This was a mistake, Gen,” Therese stated; matter-of-factly. “I should never have come here, she’s not going to want to see me.” Genevieve snickered, and Therese realized in that moment that Genevieve still had the power to make her feel small, and inconsequential; with just a word - a breath. “Stop, Gen.”

Gen cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softer now. “It’s just refreshing, I suppose, to hear that you’re still petulantly avoidant of a woman you’ve been supposedly out of love with for three years. Despite a big girl job, new city, and everything.”

Now it was Therese’s turn to be silent. Genevieve’s old defense mechanisms were coming out, predictably. Now the mistake in coming to New York felt even worse - magnified. “Listen, Therese,” Gen broke the silence, her voice softer still; as if she were slowly fading away. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m just nervous about all of this too. But Abby reached out to me, and I wouldn't exactly call us best friends; so I know she wasn’t just calling me on a whim. I’m not going to talk to you about it over the phone, Therese; but it’s really important that you come to the show.” Therese sipped her beer, remaining silent. There was that word - ‘important,’ again.

Gen sensed Therese’s trepidation and kept talking. Therese thought that this was likely the most words Genevieve had said in days. Gen was many things, but verbose was not one of them. Therese wondered if she was high on something. “Therese. This has nothing to do with me, I promise. This is about Carol. I know you cared about her once, I know you loved her. And I know that despite what you try to say now; you probably love her still. Two people can’t be the way you and Carol were together and just…fall out of love. Please, please come?” Now Therese’s interest was piqued. She had only seen Genevieve cry once. She had never heard her say the word ‘please’ and she had just said it twice in one sentence.

“Alright, Gen;” Therese said finally. “But you’d better be buying me a drink.”

Gen sighed with relief. “Thank you, Therese; for what that may possibly still be worth, coming from me.”

Therese smiled. “It’s worth a lot, Gen. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Ok…” Gen said. Therese could tell she was holding back now; the staccato tone back in her voice after being so loose with her words just moments before.

“What is it, Gen?” A beat.

“I just want you to know - she’s changed, Therese. Just - know that.” Gen said nothing more, and the line went dead. Therese finished the rest of her beer in one gulp and rested her forehead on the table. It was going to be a long night.

~***~ 

**_January, 2013_ **

   

> _“The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves - say rather, loved in spite of ourselves; the conviction the blind have. In their calamity, to be served is to be caressed. Are they deprived of anything? No. Light is not lost where love enters. And what a love! A love wholly founded in purity. There is no blindness where there is certainty.”_  
>  _~Victor Hugo, Les Miserables_

 

Therese led Carol back behind the main pool area to a dark corridor and through a set of double doors which she unlocked with her key. She turned on the lights once the doors were closed behind them; to reveal a large hot tub and the wooden door to a sauna. “This is the employee area, so they keep it really clean,” Therese was rambling. She hadn’t let go of Carol’s hand. Carol noticed Therese was clutching her towel closely around her shoulders, and she was shivering. Then Carol noticed she was shivering herself; her lengthy cardigan becoming suddenly very heavy as it hung, waterlogged, from her shoulders.

“I always have to go to the sauna or the hot tub when I’m done swimming to let my muscles loosen,” Therese explained. “That, and I’m always freezing. Add to that the shock I just received, and I may need to be in here for quite some time before I thaw out.”

Carol giggled. “I don’t feel bad, Therese. I just couldn’t wait to see you - to speak to you.”

Therese slowly began to lift the cardigan upwards from Carol’s waist, revealing a delicate black bra underneath. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. Get into the whirlpool and warm up - I’ll go find you something from my locker that you can wear home.”

Therese turned to leave but Carol grabbed her strongly by the wrist. “You don’t understand, Therese,” Carol whispered, gently moving her mouth to Therese’s ear. Therese felt her body temperature raise from the mere proximity to Carol’s mouth. “I’m tired of being without you. Stay with me.” Carol’s plea was tender, her lips now caressed Therese’s neck, brushing against her ear. Therese shivered again as she looked down to see Carol removing her wet jeans; taking her underwear with them.

Carol moved Therese toward the hot tub and they both sighed as they climbed in and the warm water enveloped them. Carol was staring at Therese’s cheek as they sat down, taking in the scratches and bruises that colored the area below her ear, where the skin was most sensitive. Carol leaned towards her and gently pressed her lips against the scratches; then slowly traced them down her neck, planting soft, tender kisses along the path of destruction. When she reached Therese’s chin, Carol lifted it gently with her hand; forcing Therese to meet her eyes. Carol noticed then that Therese was crying, silent tears falling towards Carol’s hand.

Carol’s blue eyes started to tear as she stared into Therese’s green ones. “I ran. I ran away from you, my angel; and there was no one there to protect you.” Carol was sobbing now, “look what she’s done.”

Therese reached up to hold Carol’s hand against her own face, her other hand coming to cup Carol’s cheek in her palm. “Carol, I’m ok. What happened with Gen isn’t something I regret. I was fleeing from my own mind, which was flooded with you. I’m ok, it’s ok now.” Therese paused; wanting to let the next bit sink in. “I’m not seeing her anymore, Carol.” A deep sigh of relief, as Carol leaned her face into Therese’s hand and then turned it to begin kissing each of her fingers, fervently.

When their eyes met again, lips followed. Carol was gasping in hungry breaths, breathing Therese in. Therese whimpered as she felt Carol take a lower lip between her own. Carol was ravenous. She wanted to envelop Therese, to cover every inch of her skin, to completely and tenderly root out Therese’s hurt with her breath, with her fingers, with her tongue - not with more pain. They both let out a low moan when their tongues connected again, sparks igniting their cold skin.

Carol slowly slipped Therese’s bathing suit off her shoulders, Therese quivered when her breasts were revealed, bruised and tender along one side. Carol whimpered when she saw them, half in awe, half in concern. Carol continued her trail of kisses; licking and suckling Therese’s skin everywhere; mending her with her mouth.

Therese felt a warmth begin to flow down her spine and flood between her legs, a warmth that came only from pleasure; and the new sensation overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tub, chest heaving with ragged breaths. She wanted to reach down and touch Carol, but she was paralyzed when Carol took a nipple in her mouth; softly, as if she had barely brushed it at all. A low, grumbling moan escaped Therese’s lips as Carol continued her ministrations across her chest, now slowly kneading her other breast with skilled fingers.

“I need to touch you,” Therese whimpered. Carol reluctantly broke her mouth away from a nipple and kissed Therese fiercely on the mouth, reaching behind her own back to release her bra; which was carried away in the water. Therese’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on the expanse of Carol’s flawless form. Her breasts were larger than Therese’s, despite the fact that Carol was thinner. Pebbled nipples were blushed a dusky red and they hardened even further as Therese rolled them between her fingers, releasing a tight moan from the blonde.

Suddenly, a paralyzing fear gripped Therese. She thought of the moments shared on Carol’s couch. They had never gone this far, but Therese didn’t know what she would do if Carol tried to stop her now like she had all those times before. She felt her insides may explode if she couldn’t touch Carol; couldn’t taste her. Carol felt the shift in momentum, gathered Therese’s cheek in her hand and forced her to meet her gaze once more. “What is it, darling?,” she asked, tenderly.

“I’m sorry, I just - I was thinking about what you said before,” Therese whimpered, tears in her eyes again. “You said your situation hasn’t changed. And I just… I just want you to be sure, Carol. I don’t think I can start this with you; I can’t be with you like this and then risk losing you on the other side of a glass door again.” Carol hung her head low, shaking it slowly back and forth. The impact of the pain she had caused Therese hit her full force, pain and nausea like a physical blow to her gut.

“I was wrong. Again. Well, I mean - at that time my situation hadn’t changed. But now it has,” Carol spoke softly, like a plea; a prayer. Therese couldn’t hide the skepticism written on her face, as Carol continued. “I told Harge when I got home that I was going to see you again. I told him what the consequences would be if he tried to keep me from you; if he tried to keep me from my daughter because of you.” A fierceness had creeped back into Carol’s tone now, the same protective edge rising back to life. The emotion was different though, it was also edged with compassion now; as shown by the smile on her lips, which were swollen from their kisses; her eyes still pleading. “I want you, Therese,” she whispered. “I need you. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever needed.”

Carol was resting their foreheads together now, both of them still breathing shallowly. Therese’s heart was swelling again, as she fidgeted in the hot water - as her roller coaster of emotions continued. Carol couldn’t be lying. Therese could tell this just by looking into Carol’s eyes, crystal clear blue and unblinking - unwavering. Therese knew she needed to hear more, but she suddenly thirsted for Carol like an animal in the desert. Her concerns were momentarily quelled; and the effect was like releasing all her caged want from behind a wall; with a sudden and monumental force.

Therese dipped her head down to find Carol’s lips once more and connect them to her own; silently vowing not to let go this time - not until she’d had Carol, until Carol had screamed her name, until Carol was butter, melting under her fingers. Carol’s strong arms pushed Therese towards the edge of the water, and forced her ass up to the ledge. Therese squealed at the sudden power play, surprised by the strength Carol had hidden in her lithe frame. Strong fingers slid the bathing suit down Therese’s warm thighs, always gentle, never scratching or pinching. Therese reached down and stroked Carol’s wet hair as Carol peppered kisses around each of her kneecaps, worshipping every inch of her.

Carol sunk deeper into the water so she was eye level with Therese’s center, then looked up at Therese with pleading eyes; silently asking for permission. Therese just nodded, moved a hand down from Carol’s hair to caress her cheek. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Carol.”

Therese’s whole body seemed to be vibrating like a violin string, and Carol hadn’t even touched her yet. She took deep, calming breaths and leaned back on her forearms, head still raised enough to see blonde hair as it disappeared beyond the lip of the tub. A maddening moment seemed to last forever for Therese, as Carol simply stared into her sex. Carol was memorizing the landscape of Therese, her mouth watering, her own cunt pulsing beneath the water. Therese was perfect.

In a moment of self-consciousness, Therese moved a hand toward her center; feeling slightly worried - had Carol seen her down there and thought it was ugly? Thoughts of the extra pounds she still carried flooded Therese’s mind; the thought of losing herself in pleasure, what may jiggle or crease funny? How silly must she look to someone as perfect as Carol? Therese was worried when she saw Carol disappear and felt no contact, like she was ripped away from her lifeline; her body quickly chilling in the cool air outside the tub.

Carol grasped her hand and pulled it away, looking up again to meet Therese’s gaze; but Therese’s eyes were squeezed shut. “Look at me, Therese,” Carol implored, softly but with conviction. Therese opened one eye and looked down at Carol. “Look. At. Me,” Carol commanded again. Therese opened both eyes and propped herself up higher, forced herself to meet Carol’s magnetic stare. “You’re beautiful, Therese - do you understand? You’re perfect. And whoever made you feel differently doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you do.”

Therese started to reply with a coy understatement of thanks, but all of her breath escaped her body in a gasp as she felt Carol’s tongue lap gently at her entrance. Carol’s tongue was both strong and gentle at the same time, swirling around her entrance as Carol’s fingers came up to part her folds; her tongue starting a slow dance up her slit to circle her clit with the lightest pressure.

Therese arched her back and thrust her hips forward, searching for more contact; and Carol rewarded her by gently taking her hardened clit into her mouth, enveloping it with warmth, sucking gently. Lights started to flicker behind Therese’s eyelids, and she was sweating - despite the now cool water drying on her skin. Carol continued to alternate licking and sucking gently on her delicate nub, never biting, never smacking, never grabbing.

Therese realized she had just the right amount of contact. She didn’t miss pain, nor did she need it to feel connected to Carol. She thought she could feel Carol’s own heart beating; and when she looked down to see Carol rubbing herself below the water, it was as if she could feel herself touching Carol there. She felt a knot begin to form beneath her pelvic bones, her abdomen contracting and hips undulating as Carol continued to suck at her clit, swirling her tongue around it, worshipping it.

Carol could sense Therese’s breathing become more shallow, her movements more erratic, so she slowed the movements of her tongue, wanting to prolong her pleasure. She wanted to carry Therese to the sky and suspend her there in the stars - dance with her there, before gently floating down together. She wanted to feel Therese dance that edge, quiver on either side of her precipice.

Carol’s tongue was feather light on Therese’s clit as she reached up and grasped one of Therese’s hands in her own, interlocking their fingers. As Therese started to slow the movement of her hips and space out her breaths, Carol delicately timed the entrance of two fingers of her other hand, reaching deeply as Therese let out a scream; suspending her with upward pressure against her front wall; her fingers still as Therese quivered and adjusted; their hands grasping each other tightly; Therese’s knuckles white.

Carol watched Therese carefully as she started to move her fingers in and out, focusing the pressure by the way she read the creases in Therese’s brow, the tilt of her lips. Therese slowly started to rock into Carol’s hand, her whimpers becoming more strained. She was coming undone. Her clit was aching, the cool breeze tickling where Carol’s warm mouth had been. “Please, Carol,” Therese whimpered, her hips nearly coming off the ground as she arched for more contact. “Please, take me back into your mouth.”

Carol smiled brightly, happy to hear Therese be so vocal, so warmed to Carol, so open. Carol wanted to see more of Therese, and she took their clasped hands and used them to move Therese’s knees further apart. Carol moaned at the sight before her, watching her own fingers move in and out, Therese was dripping, her clit hardened and quivering. Carol thought she had never seen anything so beautiful. She dipped her head back down and kissed Therese’s clit with her lips, softly; causing Therese to jolt her hips towards the sky.

Carol deftly maneuvered her mouth around the thrusting of Therese’s hips, finding her rhythm, accelerating it. Therese felt as if she’d gone blind - she could barely open her eyes, but when she did she only saw shadows and flecks of light; golden hair coming in and out of view. Her heart was racing and the knot in her pelvis was tightening like a quivering bowstring. She felt Carol begin to accelerate her movements, deepen the thrusts with her fingers, increase the pressure of her tongue. A guttural moan escaped Therese as she realized the inevitability of her climax approaching quickly, like a speeding train.

Therese started to whimper, incoherently at first. She was actually frightened by the force of her cunt contracting against Carol’s fingers, by the sparks being sent up and down her spine every time Carol put her mouth around her and sucked with increasing pressure - her clit an organ on fire. She knew she was going to cum violently; she started to gasp and shudder - she was afraid of completely coming undone in that way in front of Carol - especially during their first time together. “C-carol,” she cried out. “I don’t know if I can take…oh god.”

Carol acutely sensed the reactions of her lover and spoke gently to her, mouth still against her center, breathing warming breaths across her thighs. “It’s ok, Therese. It’s ok to feel it, let yourself feel it.” Carol avoided sucking on her clit directly, focusing quick bursts of attention on licking up and down her slit; meeting her fingers with her tongue; allowing Therese to take some deep breaths. “This is how you let yourself feel, Therese - this is what’s real.” Turning attention to her clit again, Carol gave it a few quick swipes with her tongue and then took Therese into her mouth again, now increasing the pace of her fingers as she relentlessly pulled Therese towards the precipice.

Therese had no choice now, there was no turning back. The flecks of light were now present even behind her closed eyelids, her heart fluttering high in her chest, the warmth beginning to spread down towards her toes as Carol wound the string in her pelvis to near it’s breaking point. Her thighs began to shake and she threw her head further back; allowing her chest to fill with more air. “I’ve got you, Therese,” Carol said softly, gently. “I’m here. Let go now… come for me.”

A low moan escaped from Therese’s lips as she started to dance on the edge, and as Carol took her clit into her mouth again, Therese felt herself sliding down the other side, her voice opening into a scream, her cunt and thighs violently quaking around Carol’s head and fingers. Her breath was ripped from her body as explosions of light and warmth ricocheted from her center and radiated to her fingers and toes; coloring the flecks of light behind her eyes.

Therese felt as if she almost lost consciousness, a period of time passed before she coherently was able to regain feeling in her limbs. Carol had pulled her gently back into the water next to her. Therese opened her eyes to see Carol’s breasts, her head was leaning against Carol’s chest and Carol was softly stroking her hair.

Therese looked up to meet Carol’s eyes, and Carol smiled at her. “Are you ok?,” Carol asked.

“I’m more than ok, Carol. I - I’ve never felt anything like that before. I can’t….”

“Shhhh…” Carol cut her off with a finger to her lips, then brought her own lips down to meet Therese’s; softly. “We should get out of here, or we’re going to be permanently water-logged,” Carol joked. Therese took Carol’s shriveled fingers in her hand and kissed them.

“Ok,” Therese relented. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight until I can have you, I need to feel you too, Carol; I need to feel you in my mouth.”

Carol wiped an errant wisp of hair from Therese’s forehead and smiled gently. “You’ll get your chance, darling. I’m not leaving you tonight. I’m yours.”

Therese looked shocked at this; her brain suddenly racing to what must have happened with Carol while she was hopelessly trying to enjoy her party. Therese knew that whatever crack, whatever opening she had managed to uncover into Carol’s life - she was going to burrow into it now and never look back.


	14. Much Too Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one, guys. I've had some deadlines and other stuff going on, but I promise I'm still here ;) I'm hoping people are still sticking around and reading this! Thanks in advance for your comments, as always.

** Chapter 14: Much Too Soon **

**_February, 2013_ **

 

> _“I did not love you out of boredom or loneliness or caprice. I loved you because the desire for you was stronger than any happiness._  
>  _~ Alessandro Baricco_
> 
> _“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entaglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”_  
>  _~ C. S. Lewis_

 

Carol loved writing when Therese was around. She felt comforted by the young woman’s mere presence, and when she was comfortable, she was open, and when she was open - she could write. Therese, on the other hand, couldn’t manage simple life tasks when Carol was around, let alone any type of actual work. It had been over a month since Carol literally jumped back into Therese’s life, but Therese still felt awestruck, like she was in a dream.

Part of the dream-like trance may have been Carol’s fault. Carol’s lifestyle was unimaginable to Therese. Carol had decided she would continue to be at home to put Rindy to bed each night and was usually also there every morning to see her off to school, but Carol rarely actually slept in that guest bedroom now. A couple weeks ago, Carol had insisted on getting a hotel room, which she rented for a whole month. Therese probably couldn’t even afford a weekend stay at that place, let alone a month in the penthouse suite.

They were sitting in their usual corner spot at the Ritz Tower bar. Over the past month this had become their favorite place. Something about it felt private, and Carol’s work really took off when she wrote here. They had a wonderful food menu, but Carol insisted on a large bowl of edamame and a whiskey. Every time, it was the same ritual. Therese started to think maybe Carol was really superstitious, like one of those football players who refuse to wash their underwear before a big game.

Therese was lost in a daydream because now she was thinking of Carol’s underwear, not a football player’s. She glanced down blankly at a magazine page infrequently, but mostly she just stared unabashedly at Carol. She was mesmerized by her. Every little thing she did made Therese want her. She wanted to know everything about Carol. She already found out that Carol was left-handed. She watched now as Carol wrote in her journal with her left hand, and mindlessly grasped for edamame from the bowl with her right. Therese watched Carol’s lips as they closed around the edamame pod, squeezing the beans into her mouth. She watched as Carol bit her lower lip and furrowed her right brow. That happened when Carol was struggling to find the words for what she was trying to convey; when she couldn’t find the right turn for a phrase.

Therese was finally able to calm down and read a bit, but was startled when she noticed Carol had started dropping her empty edamame pods onto Therese’s open journal. Carol was so engrossed in her writing that she didn’t realize the waiter had come and given her a clean bowl; but had set it down slightly to the left of where the old one was. Therese just put her book down and watched Carol, determined not to say anything until Carol noticed it herself. She didn’t want to break the woman’s concentration.

As she stared at Carol and watched her drop four - now five pods onto Therese’s journal, a smile slowly crept across Therese’s face, her dimples popping. She again felt a warmth rising in her chest, inexplicable tears threatening to cloud her eyes. This feeling had happened several times in the past week, always when she was watching Carol - and Carol wasn’t looking. Therese couldn’t place the feeling, she couldn’t name it. But she knew that the enormity of it scared her. It begged to be felt, to be acknowledged. This woman was changing her life; but it also felt like Carol was ingraining herself into Therese, like a brand. The picture of what her life meant or even was without Carol in it became a blurry mirage… and that scared her too.

Carol tilted her head down and shook it - she was stuck. Her attention was drawn back to the present; her mind releasing it’s writer. Therese watched as Carol noticed the edamame pods all over her journal, and Carol laughed - a deep, hearty chuckle. “You moved the bowl,” Carol said, accusingly.

“I did no such thing. Johnnie, the waiter - he replaced your bowl.” Therese picked the pods off her journal and started casually tossing them towards Carol’s journal. “Do you think it’s healthy to eat this many beans?”

Therese was grinning now, and Carol now also tried to identify the growing warmth in her own chest as she watched the young woman’s dimples blossom. It was as if she was lit from within. They never needed to speak, Carol thought. She could read Therese’s body like a novel; trace her face like a painting. It was too soon, Carol thought, constantly chiding herself. Too soon for thoughts like these.

Suddenly Carol was grabbing Therese’s face, a strong grip on her jaw, Carol’s lips were seeking, pulling. Therese was slightly taken aback, Carol was never this forward in public; but Carol’s eyes were closed, her brow furrowed, one strong hand still on either side of Therese’s face. Carol was lost in her. Therese hummed into Carol’s mouth, breaking her reverie.

When Carol broke away she immediately sought eye contact with Therese. Too soon, Carol thought again; a cautionary mantra peaking around the edge of her subconscious. Carol’s own desires overwhelmed her. She felt betrayed by her years, by her experience. Everything she had ever felt or believed was tainted now, shattered by her current reality. She realized her perfectly erected barrier around her heart was crumbling; and she wasn’t even keen to stop it. Too soon, she thought again; moving her lips against Therese’s neck, breathing her in.

~***~

To say Carol merely “walked” into her next weekly meeting with Abby would be a misrepresentation of her gait; of her demeanor. She was basically swaying, almost dancing. Carol had postponed the last few meetings with Abby because she was spending nearly all of her free time with Therese. She felt guilty for not spending time with her friend; but she also knew without hesitation that she’d make the same choices again. How could she not bask in this? She realized then exactly what she would do to be with Therese, what she would sacrifice. The vastness of it, the boundlessness - it terrified Carol. As she shivered at the thought, there was the mantra again in her head… too soon. Much too soon.

Abby grinned at Carol as she approached the table; patronizing her. “Jesus Christ, you make me sick, you know that?” Carol let out a deep chuckle as she scooted into the booth. “Seriously, Carol,” Abby continued; “love looks good on you.”

“Don’t say that word,” Carol cut back, the cracking edge to her voice surprising both of them. Carol shook her head, trying to shake it off. But it was too late, Abby saw everything. Abby always saw everything. Carol sat down and tried to affect a visage that didn’t resemble a dopey grin. She was losing her cool.

Abby cut right to the chase. “How’s Rindy?,” she asked carefully, stirring some sugar into her coffee. Carol was guarded. She was acutely aware of what her current living situation must be doing to her daughter. She knew Rindy was too smart to really think that her mother was spending all night at home. Rindy had caught her before, and that’s when Carol was being cautious. Nothing in the last month was done cautiously - it was done with wanton abandon, with a fire in her belly which clouded all sensible thought. Carol shuddered at the thought of how her defenses had been completely dismantled. She didn’t recognize the choices she had made. Images of Rindy flooded her mind and her smile dissipated.

Abby saw an opening. “What is it, Carol?,” she asked. “Is Rindy all right, I mean - does she seem angry about you not being at home?”

Carol just shook her head silently. She didn’t know the answer to the question. She had been avoiding it. “Jesus, what kind of mother am I?” Carol asked this genuinely, recognition striking her. Abby reached for her hand to stop this train of thought, but Carol pulled her hand away.

“I am concerned about Rindy,” Carol said finally. “I’m worried about Harge’s drinking. I know he’s been - troubled since I left him with that ultimatum” Carol could still not meet Abby’s gaze. Carol could suddenly see what her situation must look like to an outsider; even to a close friend like Abby. Carol was banking on Harge’s fear; betting on his dedication to his own selfish pursuits. She was betting her whole family on the belief that Harge’s selfishness would cover for her own; that somehow their love for Rindy would continue to bind them when everything else had long since faded away. She was letting her whole life drift into open water towards Therese, while a single rope bound to RIndy held her to shore, dashed her plans, fenced her dreams.

Abby watched as her friend suffered inside her own mind. Abby knew exactly what Carol was thinking. She knew exactly what sentiments were holding Carol back from being honest about her feelings for Therese. It was the same thoughts that had dashed Carol’s happiness for nearly a decade. Guilt again raged, bringing blackness; and Abby watched it as if it were a tangible cloud swirling above Carol’s head. Carol’s brows were furrowed, her lip quivering. Abby sighed, and she silently wondered how much anguish one woman should be meant to endure.

~***~

Therese was getting nervous about her presentation for the Young Writer’s Guild. The ceremony would take place in Boston this year, and while her speech was less than a week away, she had yet to prepare her remarks, or even pick which segment of her essays she would be reading. Carol seemed to have let it slip her mind entirely. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Therese, nor inquired about her progress in preparing her speech. Carol was increasingly distracted lately, and Therese figured it must have something to do with Carol’s writing or her painting - though she was unsure. She felt unable to ask Carol outright.

The couple sat at their usual booth at the Ritz Tower Bar, except today their usual dynamic was reversed. Therese was the one engrossed in her laptop, trying to organize the order for her remarks. She would need to fly to Boston in three days, and she hadn’t yet discussed with Carol if they would be traveling together. She knew that this procrastination was her own fault. She had been so content just drifting with Carol. She wanted to continue to wake up in Carol’s hotel room and defer all decisions to another morning; to defer her whole life until a time when she didn’t have the opportunity to bury her head in Carol’s neck and smell her hair as she slept. Nothing seemed real or even tangible compared to that. Everything else seemed to move in slow motion.

Carol was restless because she, too, had been thinking about the upcoming conference in Boston. She was reasonably concerned about the visual of traveling with Therese openly, especially since she was listed as the mentor of record for Therese’s work, including a mention of her scholarship. The teacher-student relationship was on display as clearly as if it were written in the program. Fears faded quickly though, as she considered the prospect of having an entire weekend with Therese. She wouldn’t have to sneak out of bed in the morning or sneak back under the covers at night. She could have one weekend to allow herself to bask in this light. One weekend before they both needed to embrace the reality of the strings pulling at the edges of their separate lives like constant, nagging anchors.

Carol watched Therese write, reluctant to break her concentration. She mindlessly lifted a hand to Therese’s face to wipe back a stray strand of brown hair, drawing a smile from the young woman as she broke her attention to meet Carol’s gaze. “I’m sorry I’m distracted this morning,” Therese whispered, finally giving some attention to her neglected espresso. “I’m just finally realizing I should prepare some remarks and maybe, I don’t know, buy a ticket to Boston.” Carol just smiled and took Therese’s glasses from her face tenderly, wiping them on her cardigan as if they were her own.

“I’ve taken care of the travel arrangements for Boston,” Carol said softly. She had already booked a hotel and plane tickets for both of them, even though she was sure Therese had planned on taking the train. Therese felt a momentary twinge of annoyance about this, but she couldn’t really place it. Didn’t Therese always revel in Carol taking care of her, pampering her? But this felt different somehow. This conference, this trip - this was supposed to be Therese’s thing; her moment. Therese shook her head. This was silly. Carol was just trying to help, to take the mindless tasks off Therese’s plate.

Carol handed Therese’s glasses back to her with a worried look. “Are you ok, darling?,” she asked. “you look a little pale.”

Therese shrugged her off. “I’m fine, just nervous is all. Thank you for taking care of the arrangements.” Carol could tell her mind was elsewhere. Carol felt the rift in the air and was desperate to connect again with Therese again. She felt herself grasping for her, her heart begging for her like a dog called to heel. Too soon, much too soon, the voice repeatedly chided.

“I’m going to call it a night,” Therese said abruptly.

Carol nodded and looked at her watch - it was nearly 8 pm. She needed to get home to put Rindy to bed. “I’ll see you at the hotel then, later tonight?” Carol inquired, as she picked up her notebooks and started packing her bag. Therese was struck with another jolt of annoyance, but this time she could very accurately place it. Carol had never stayed the night at her apartment. Carol had barely even stepped in the door. She had stopped by once after a late lecture and waited for Therese to pack a bag, but she had stood there in the doorway the entire time, anxiously waiting. Therese didn’t know exactly why this upset her - of course she’d rather sleep in a luxurious hotel bed than in her precarious loft. But something about the way Carol disregarded that part of her life made Therese feel small and insignificant.

“No, I’m going to go back to my place. I need to be grounded, to be somewhere I can write on a whim if I need to.”

Carol looked at Therese quizzically, as if what she said was ridiculous or quaint. “You know you can set up in hotel, there’s wifi and we can keep it quiet - unlike your apartment with your noisy neighbors.” Carol said this matter-of-factly, with a wink, as if Therese’s statement was so ridiculous it didn’t even necessitate a counter-argument.

“No, I just need to be at my own place, Carol; I have my own space and… and I need to feel grounded too. I have my own… my own life there Carol, which you may have known if you ever visited, or cared.”

Carol took a step back during Therese’s nervous rant. Carol pulled back quickly, unsure of how to proceed. This was new territory for them. “Ok, darling,” she said softly, placing a hand on Therese’s shoulder. “Call me anytime,” she followed, as she hurriedly retreated out of the bar; leaving Therese behind to wonder.

~***~

Therese settled into her apartment and she smiled as she arranged her notebooks and laptop on her small desk. As she sat down to write, her brain fell into the familiar habitat like a comforting harbor. She realized she hadn’t sat down at her desk to work since she had reconnected with Carol. Everything around her just seemed so disjointed, so unreal. She felt the comfort of her own surroundings envelop her like a warm blanket, and she welcomed Kitty to her lap.

She made a silent vow to herself then. She couldn’t let herself completely drift away again. She had found the pieces of herself after she left Gen, and yes, Carol had helped her glue them back together. But she couldn’t rely on Carol to structure her entire life. The re-scaffolding of her heart had to be of her own building, her own strength. She couldn’t just allow herself to drift away. She had to remain rooted in reality. Carol’s actions clearly showed that she was keeping some boundaries carefully erected.

Therese knew she was falling irrevocably in love with Carol, but she also was horrified that she was feeling this too soon. She couldn’t clear a nagging suspicion that Carol’s train of thought was no where near love. Carol seemed stuck on frivolity, basking in the newness of their relationship like a drunken teenager. Their lovemaking was, in maintaining the theme, still hurried and wanton.

Therese had drifted to sleep in her desk chair with a purring kitty on her lap, and she was startled by a knock at her door. Kitty jumped up and scratched her leg, causing her to cry out. She was a bit disoriented, and she fumbled around in the dark for a minute before she remembered where she was. It was Carol’s voice that pulled her back to reality, her low voice coming clearly through the cheap door, “Are you alright, Therese?” “I’m fine,” Therese responded, “just give me a minute.” She finally found the light switch and flipped it, bathing the entire small studio in a dull yellow. The light buzzed and flickered a bit, as per the usual, once it was turned on. This place really is a shithole, Therese thought.

Therese gathered her robe around her and pulled the door open to find a fully dressed Carol Aird. Therese glanced back at the wall clock. It was 2:30 am. Therese stepped aside to allow Carol to enter the tiny space. Therese was still slightly fogged with sleep, allowing Carol a moment to gather her thoughts… and her nerve. “I realized, I mean I thought that maybe you thought…. that I judged you about your apartment or that I didn’t want to see you here,” Carol rambled. It was this uncharacteristic verbal clumsiness that awoken Therese, her attention snapping to Carol quickly, green eyes suddenly wide.

Carol sighed. She realized she had botched any attempt at making her nighttime appearance seem smooth or rehearsed. She looked at Therese staring back at her then, with those wide green eyes; her robe coming untied to bare part of her chest. She looked at her, and as she did so she realized that the mantra in her head was fine. Sure, maybe it was too soon. Maybe these thoughts would undo them both; and by breaking down these walls she’d eventually break down the whole fort. But… she decided at that moment to let herself feel it. She was always telling Therese not to be afraid to feel, to be open. It was about damn time she took her own advice, whether it be too soon, or not. Why was she so afraid to admit that she never wanted anything or anyone more than she wanted Therese? Why was she so reluctant to put the name to this feeling that seemed too sudden and soon, but nonetheless felt real, and tangible, and right?

She allowed the emotion of this unnamed feeling to drag her towards Therese, to seek her lips. Therese slowly backed up the few feet to the wall, allowing Carol to push her body flush against her; allowing Carol to lead her. Carol released her lips with a pop, pulling back to gaze at her with lust darkening her eyes. “I’m sorry I never came here before. I’m sorry I didn’t show you that the only thing that matters is us being together. I’m sorry I tried to dictate everything.” Carol was starting to ramble, punctuating each “I’m sorry” with kisses down Therese’s neck and shoulders.

Therese reversed their positions with a strong hand on Carol’s back, motioning for Carol to climb the loft ladder. Carol looked up at the loft incredulously. “we won’t fall, I promise,” Therese said.

Carol let out a low laugh. “Ok you say that, but how many times have you woken up on the floor?”

Therese feigned disgust. “That’s only when I went to bed drunk!,” she exclaimed, now pushing Carol backwards up the narrow stairs.

Carol relinquished control as Therese pushed her down into the mattress. The younger woman was straddling her and moving her way up her body, strong legs gripping her waist. Carol felt suddenly lighter, despite the entire weight of the brunette pushing down on her pelvis, Her whole body was naturally reacting to Therese with an openness that startled her. Her whole being felt like she was being flayed open, like it wasn’t just her body on display. She had spent so many hours trying to get Therese to open up to her in this way, but she had never even took baby steps in that direction herself. The thought of it usually pierced her with fear - the threat of everything slowly unraveling, the act of opening herself in this way was was like a knick to the fabric, a run in the pantyhose.

Therese directed Carol to face her with a hand to her chin, tilting their lips towards one another once again. Conscious thought was momentarily forgotten as Carol allowed herself to be lost in the dance of their tongues, in the little sighs and moans Therese uttered as her mouth trailed behind the fingers which were deftly unbuttoning Carol’s blouse. Carol closed her eyes and allowed the unnamed feeling to creep back up from it’s banished depths, allowed her brain to turn it over in the open. She ignored the mantra as Therese pulled her jeans down around her ankles, pausing only slightly on her trek back to Carol to kiss each of her kneecaps.

Therese paused, one hand to Carol’s cheek, delicately cradling her there, forcing their eyes to stay connected. She was keeping Carol tethered, keeping the feeling in front of them, no room for escape, no closed doors behind which to retreat. Carol lifted her head, her lips seeking contact, but Therese pulled back slightly, green eyes wide. Carol kept her eyes pinned to Therese’s, allowing herself to finally get lost in their depths.

One hand still cradling Carol’s cheek, and with their eyes still locked, Therese entered Carol deftly with two fingers, a low moan escaping Carol. Carol was fighting to maintain eye contact; to keep herself open. Therese lowered her lips to Carol’s ear, her warm breath drawing emotion to the surface of Carol like a siphon. “Thank you for coming over,” Therese whispered, as she continued to move inside Carol, her pace maddening in its restraint.

Carol felt her insides curing like a spring, drawing with it that nagging feeling again. Therese’s fingers were summoning it out of her bones as if she was sucking the marrow. There was no time for the mantra to kick in, as Therese increased the pace of her hand. There was no too soon, there was no too late; there was only this - only now. As Carol blindly ascended towards her breaking point, Therese moved her other hand to Carol’s waist, anchoring her down. They made eye contact again as Carol was thrown from the precipice, her breathlessness exacerbated by a sudden clearness of mind. As her climax receded and she trembled in Therese’s arms, the feeling that had long begged for itself to be felt was finally acknowledged. This was love.


	15. I'm Well-Acquainted with Villains that Live in My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is NSFW. That being said, I am eager to hear what you guys think of this chapter. There is a lot of introspection here, as this part of the story is taking place mostly in the way these women are feeling. It's difficult to write an internal emotional journey like this, but hopefully these characters continue to ring true. I appreciate each and every person who has commented and I have really enjoyed chatting with you all about this story! Thanks for coming back!

** Chapter 15: I’m Well-Acquainted with Villains That Live in My Head **

**_Spring, 2013_ **

  

> _“Why is it that we don’t worry about a compass until we are lost in a wilderness of our own making?”_  
>  _~ Craig Lounsbrough_
> 
> _“What is required for many of us, paradoxical though it may sound, is the courage to tolerate happiness without self-sabotage.”_  
>  _~ Nathaniel Branden_

 

Therese had been terrified about the speech for the Young Writers Guild. After she was first notified about the award she spent several weeks trying to think of ways to get out of it. She didn’t really enjoy public speaking, and she enjoyed presenting her own work even less so. But everything changed when she and Carol were reunited. Therese saw this weekend in Boston as an opportunity for them to be together openly, and now she found herself tingling with excitement as she finished packing her small bag. She glanced around her apartment, mentally reviewing her packing checklist. Her apartment was so sparse it was nearly unrecognizable. Even Kitty had taken up new residence in Carol’s hotel suite, after Carol made an undercover deal with several members of the housekeeping staff.

After the night that Carol spent with Therese in her loft, Carol had completely changed in the way she was when they were together. Therese couldn’t exactly describe it, but it was as if Carol had an epiphany that night. Carol looked to Therese with deference, as an equal, and it was the sexiest thing Therese had ever seen her do. Therese felt that, up until that night, she was constantly reigning back the emotions she presented to Carol. She felt she needed to protect her heart fiercely; she was so afraid of losing Carol again.

Therese glanced down and traced the scars that still feathered her upper arms and chest and thought of how broken she was not so long ago. The force of the mental anguish that overtook her after that wretched Valentine’s night was something she thought sure she wouldn’t survive a second time. She thought of the emptiness she felt in the pit of her chest every time she had dragged a blade against her own skin, every time she had let Genevieve scratch her, bite her… fuck her. She remembered the strength she summoned to try to force her body and her heart to just feel, only to find herself more empty still; each act depleting her a little bit more. She shivered at the recollection. She shivered at the thought of what she would have become if Carol hadn’t come to the party that night.

But here she was, months later, ravished with excitement and eager for the upcoming weekend. She didn’t know how she could hold herself back anymore. She didn’t know how to stop this feeling from escalating and threatening to expand to fill her entire being, like a stampede fanning out across a desert landscape; she could feel the hoofbeats in her heart which threatened to explode every time she touched Carol. If she was going to let her guard down, now was the time. She was going to risk her own mental ruin if Carol pulled away, or worse- if Carol did not reciprocate her feelings. But she knew that the idea of climbing mountains with Carol - and finding more and more peaks together… it had to be worth that risk.

Therese was pulled from her reflection when she heard a gentle knock at the door. She smiled and ran to open it. Carol looked ravishing in a pair of jeans and tattered t-shirt. “How can you look so amazing wearing something like that?,” Therese spoke lowly, as she hurried Carol into her apartment with a strong arm across her lower back. Therese pulled the door shut and pressed Carol’s back up against it, pressing her lips to Carol’s and eagerly slipping a thigh between her legs.

Carol laughed against Therese’s lips; “darling, there’s no time for shenanigans, we’re going to miss our flight.”

Therese pouted. “But you know I love shenanigans,” she whined.

Carol smiled as she thought to herself… 'but you know I love you'. Carol shook her head gently, as if to rid herself of the thought. She settled with a simple “you’re adorable,” as she ushered Therese out to the car which was waiting for them.

~***~

Therese looked around the hotel room in Boston with awe. It was even bigger and more luxurious than the suite Carol had in New York. “Oh, Carol;” she sighed. “This is too much. Aren’t you going to, oh I don’t know… run out of money?”

Carol snickered and ignored the question. Instead, she came up behind Therese and wrapped strong arms low around her waist. She nuzzled her chin into Therese’s hair; breathing her in. “Have I mentioned lately how proud I am of you?,” Carol asked, the whisper of her voice tickling Therese’s ear.

“Well if by lately you mean in the last couple of hours, no.”

Carol gently bit Therese’s neck and whirled her around to face her. “Don’t you get smart with me, young lady,” she said with a soft smile.

“Oh yeah?,” Therese grinned, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her mouth against Carol’s neck, peppering light kisses along her collarbone. “What would be my punishment?”

Carol groaned, and kissed Therese softly on the lips before pulling away. It was an innocent gesture, but every time Carol pulled away from her, Therese felt it acutely, like a suction - like a hand being pulled away from a strong vacuum. “You’ll just have to wait until after dinner to find out,” Carol said with a snicker as she walked away.

They started unpacking their things but Therese couldn’t stop looking at Carol and then looking at the large plush bed in front of them. It didn’t take much provocation for Therese to burn with need for Carol, like a well that never ran dry. She steeled her emotions though, she needed to rehearse her speech before dinner and she really should keep her mind on her presentation tomorrow, not on how many times she could claim Carol on this bed before then. She was much more assertive in bed with Carol than she had ever been with Gen - or with anyone else, for that matter. There were certainly times that Therese relinquished control to the usually dominant older blonde, but she could hold her own, and Carol seemed to love it when she took charge. The dynamic of their relationship was always changing, always growing. Therese smiled to herself as she thought of all the possibilities, all the things she wanted to do with Carol, all the places she wanted to go with Carol.

~***~

Carol could sense that Therese was nervous, but she also could read deeper than that. She had noticed the changes in Therese since the night she came to her loft. She felt that Therese was softening to her, becoming less reserved. She hoped this was the case, she hoped she wasn’t just imagining it or overstating it. Still, Therese had yet to be as open to Carol sexually as she had been that first night in the spa. Carol longed to have Therese again in that way; to have her laid bare and vulnerable before her; to lavish her and take care of her, and continue to try to chip away at the walls Therese had erected due to Carol’s own foolish mistakes. Carol was trying to pedal in reverse, trying to work against the time she had lost.

She was trying to find a balance between pushing Therese where she knew their relationship could be, and respecting the boundaries Therese had set because of their past. Carol had always been the one with the walls, so this was an interesting predicament for her. Carol was always the ice queen, pushing herself to feel, to give, to be involved. Now Carol felt a burning flame ignite inside her belly every time Therese touched her skin, and it scared her both with its rarity as well as its intensity. She felt almost as if she were on the cusp of an emotional climax - begging to slow down due to fear of its strength, while simultaneously, desperately, wanting to crash into it with full force and eyes wide open.

Carol sensed the fragility in Therese, that Carol herself had likely created, only to see it exacerbated by Genevieve. Carol recognized in Therese the fierce sense of independence and need to be dominant that came after extracting oneself from Gen’s grasp. Carol relished in it, and she let Therese maintain control - but she was also yearning for Therese to submit to her again, to allow Carol to at least try to worm her way back into her heart and see what could blossom there. Carol wanted to tell Therese that she loved her, but she was terrified of breaking the bonds they had already rebuilt by moving too quickly. She didn’t feel she could say it when Therese was so clearly the one directing things at this point. She had to let Therese guide it, or she had to wait for Therese to relax into her again, to open to her again like that night in the spa. Carol was afraid that if she told Therese now, it would bounce and ricochet off the walls they both had built and crash to the ground.

It was in this spirit that both women came together that night. Both were yearning for more connection, both too afraid of what that connection could bring. Therese was terrified of being open with Carol again, because she wasn’t sure if Carol could reciprocate her intense feelings;. She was even more afraid of how she would shatter if Carol couldn’t. Ironically, Carol was refraining from telling Therese these same feelings, since she herself couldn’t be in control.

The control which Therese refused to relinquish was that which Carol needed to speak her truth. They had tangled themselves in a dangerous web of semantics and false rules, and they started to conceal things within themselves again. They started to bury little thoughts and secrets away; as if they were covering their sins.

~***~

Therese’s presentation had been an overwhelming success. Carol had to remind herself to breathe during several key segments, as she silently mouthed the words from backstage. An immense sense of pride welled up in the pit of Carol’s stomach as the crowd treated Therese to thunderous applause. Carol waited patiently for Therese backstage while the young author greeted some fans at the podium. As she watched Therese, her heart welled up again, the threat of tears ticking at her throat. Carol had never been this overcome with emotion. Every moment with Therese felt important… crucial. Just a regular day with Therese felt like all those moments on vacation when you regretted not taking more pictures.

Therese finished greeting people at the podium and thanked the judges. She then walked like a beeline straight towards Carol backstage; grinning widely, her dimples on full display. Carol was grinning back at her and was still surprised when Therese bypassed any pleasantries and kissed her forcefully on the mouth, pressing her back until she almost tripped over a large wooden crate in the back of the stage area. Foreheads together and giggling wildly, both women sunk down to sit on the crate. Carol felt like a schoolgirl, afraid to get caught in the auditorium after band practice.

It was usually hard for Carol to control herself around Therese, but her pride… and the happiness surrounding the weekend escalated her desire to another level. She felt her skin tingling, her whole body aching to touch and be touched. What remained usual was Carol’s initial reaction to the feeling sweeping through her - she chose to suppress it, horrified by the immensity and complexity of it. “Hotel, now,” Therese whispered huskily under her breath, and Carol nodded simply. Carol grabbed Therese by the hand and let her away through the darkened corridors.

~***~

Carol pushed Therese backwards through the hotel doorway as her key card clicked and the door swung open violently from the pressure of the women moving against each other on the other side. Carol pivoted Therese and manipulated her like a finely programmed machine, pressing her back against the door frame, never losing contact with her mouth as their tongues danced. Carol panted against Therese’s neck, glistening sweat running down her brow. As she kissed her way down Therese’s body, Carol willed Therese to open to her. With every touch, with every caress of her tongue, Carol tried to convince Therese that she loved her. She was too weak to say it though, the words burning her throat as she snaked her tongue around Therese’s nipple, a gasp tearing from the younger woman’s throat.

It didn’t take long for Therese to regain her clear head - she always wanted to experience Carol with her eyes wide open, she wanted to see her. She never let Carol turn the lights out when they made love. Therese wanted every inch of Carol illuminated - to be immersed in her… to truly see her.

Therese took Carol’s hand strongly between both of her own, prying Carol off her nipple. Carol looked up at her with pure lust in her eyes. Carol’s eyes were dark, midnight blue and hooded, pupils wide. Therese had never seen a look so fierce. She lead them to the bed, her body struggling not to betray her trembling core. Wetness was dripping down her thigh, she was feeling perversely conspicuous. Therese felt her desire for Carol seeping out of her; an incontrollable, violent tide leaking through every pore as Carol pulled her towards her shore.

They stumbled into the bedroom and both women began frantically removing their own clothes, a pile growing near the foot of the bed. Silently, both women were chastising themselves for the depths of their wantonness. They were both pressing forward against their minds, which were screaming and pleading for them to hold back. As their lips and tongues danced closely, they distanced and steeled their private hearts against the dangers of love without abandon, love without caution… love that crashed and obliterated into unbearable pain.

It was Carol who pushed Therese into the mattress forcefully, lying her entire weight onto the brunette underneath her; seeking the maximum amount of skin contact; her body trying to melt into Therese and mold her to her frame. She peppered light kisses and licks all across her face, down her neck, across her collarbones to her sternal notch. Carol was panting and writhing, the wetness dripping from her own cunt and coating Therese’s stomach and pelvis.

Therese reached up for Carol, grasping for her face. She was seeking to hold her gaze, to touch her hands to her cheeks, to absorb Carol through her skin. Carol kissed each of Therese’s eyelids with pointed delicacy. Carol’s heart was straining against her ears; begging her to come clean - completely, subjectivity. She yearned to tell Therese that she belonged to her. Whatever part of Carol’s heart that still beat, still ached and pulsed with want - that part belonged to Therese, and Therese alone.

Therese could sense the desperation in Carol’s breathing, she could hear Carol’s voice hitching in her chest with each gasp. Carol was throwing herself across Therese’s body, worshipping her with her lips and tongue, tasting and biting her skin as if it were candy. Carol worked her way back up Therese’s body and claimed her mouth with her own, eyes wide open and fixated on Therese’s green ones. Carol whimpered with the surge of desire, wondering how something could feel like this. It never felt like this.

Carol made her way down Therese’s body, licking a trail of hot fire across the skin of her breasts and chest. Therese closed her eyes and felt the room spinning as if she were intoxicated, every nerve ending on fire and breathlessly pulsating towards Carol, her breasts like flowers arching achingly towards the light. Therese hadn’t felt this bare and exposed since that first night in the spa, her whole body submitting to Carol’s hands like clay. But this felt different, she felt safer, she felt Carol’s strong arms around her and she wanted to trust those arms to catch her; trust them enough to be able to let go completely again - no images of glass doors and barriers holding them back.

Lights exploded behind Therese’s eyes when Carol slid her fingers across Therese’s wet clit, moans escaping both women only to be swallowed by their dancing mouths. Carol ran her wet fingers up and down Therese’s tight slit, and brought her other arm up to Therese’s chin with a shaky jerk. She traced Therese’s lip with a thumb as she moved the fingers of her other hand, slowly drawing Therese out towards the light.

Carol pulled her face slightly away from Therese and watched her lover as she picked up the speed of her fingers, running a long index finger down the length of her cunt and inserting it slowly into her depths, wetness running down the side of Carol’s hand and coating Carol’s thigh. Carol gasped with surprise at the warmth, as Therese arched her back with a whine; lunging towards Carol’s fingers with her pelvis and screwing her eyes shut tight.

Carol wanted to taste Therese, but more than that she wanted to be close to her - to be bound and glued to her. She felt Therese murmuring and spasming against her hand and knew the younger woman was desperately holding back, trying to remain in the moment and prolonging her own pleasure. Carol smirked to herself with satisfaction as she watched the young brunette trembling below her, completely open and laid bare. She felt a strong simultaneous desire to cover Therese and protect her. Therese had been so reluctant to submit to Carol in this way, Carol wanted to deliver her, to reward her.

Therese suddenly opened her eyes and green found blue like a magnet snapped against metal. Therese pleaded with her eyes and Carol realized they had no need to speak, Therese held her gaze and choked a whispered “please” against Carol’s lips before their tongues met once again. Carol moved down her body peppering soft kisses until she reached Therese’s core, gazing into it with tenderness and awe. She felt lucky, so lucky to be where she was in that moment, completely intoxicated by the woman in front of her. The woman she loved.

Carol’s mouth joined her hand, her free hand massaging Therese’s breast roughly; pinching her nipple forcefully. She moved her fingers in rhythm with a strong suction of her mouth on Therese’s clit, drawing increasingly shallow and breathless cries from the brunette below her.

This time, Therese didn’t beg for gentleness. She didn’t hide herself or make premature excuses. She allowed herself to crest the wave with Carol, and she shuddered violently with a low growl as Carol delivered her across the precipice. Therese followed her groan with several screams, which were seemingly ripped from her throat as she continued to shiver and shake against Carol’s mouth. Carol breathed in deeply as Therese relaxed against her, a flood of wetness coating Carol’s mouth and chin.

Carol crawled up Therese’s body, leaving a wet trail of kisses in her wake, coating each of Therese’s nipples with their mixed desire. She placed her cheek against Therese’s chest, breathing heavily. Therese closed her eyes, allowing the room to spin around her; a giant grin plastered on her face. Therese felt drunk with happiness. She felt herself submitting to Carol, melting into her taller frame. Therese was frustrated with herself, why was she holding back? This is what she was destined to be, this was how she is supposed to feel.

Therese dragged Carol’s body up over her, forcing skin contact, desperately searching for Carol’s mouth. Therese was hungry for her, and she realized in that moment that she would happily submit to any request. She would happily wait in the background for Carol, she’d hide under disguise and settle for meaningless scraps of attention. Therese wanted Carol with a force that subjugated all other thoughts. She would kill, and maim, and lie, and steal for her.

As Therese finally allowed her thoughts to wander, Carol was still moving her fingers softly across her clit. What had started as a gentle way to ease Therese down had quickly became the arousal that brought her back to attention, her clit straining hard and wooden against Carol’s hand. Carol’s mouth claimed her own and they moved in a dreamy entanglement. Therese was cresting the wave seemingly endlessly, crash after crash captured with finesse and care against Carol’s skin; Carol’s mouth drawing Therese out over and over again until Therese threw her body away, spent and heaving against the cold floor.

Several moments passed as the women steadied their breathing. Both were overcome with emotion, tears threatening to break, their skin sensitive and on edge. Therese opened her eyes with renewed clarity. She felt suddenly aware of how closed she had been, how afraid she was when Carol tried to reunite with her. Now Therese realized that it didn’t matter if she risked her heart and then was crushed. She had come this far. She had invested her heart and opened herself to Carol. Now she had the privilege of lying in Carol’s arms, breathing Carol’s sweat. Now she had the opportunity to love Carol, to reflect her desire and take her, to occupy her mind, her heart, and her body. She had laid claim to Carol with everything her soul possessed. The sacrifice had already been made. There were no deposits, and no returns. Therese was in this. She was in as deep as person could be without drowning.

Carol saw the vulnerability in Therese’s eyes. Dark clouds seemed to be threatening her green eyes, and tears were welling in the corners as they widened. Therese started to shiver despite her orgasm having receded, and Carol wrapped arms around the brunette tightly, possessively. Both women lay bare to one another, both waiting for an offering, a bridge to connect and ground their possessive desire.

Carol’s head was spinning, but she didn’t want to release Therese in that moment. She wanted to hold her close, to smell her and touch her. She wanted to grasp Therese’s center, to tease and test her, to press her and feel her explode in front of her eyes. She wanted to experiment, to draw, to paint her. Carol’s mind was spinning like a frenzied pinwheel. Fuck tradition and what is right, and appearances. Carol rubbed a thumb across Therese’s brow, grabbing her from her slumbered state, forcing eye contact. “Therese”, Carol whispered into the night. “You’re my now, you’re my everything. How could I ever not tell you - and tell you often…” a phone began to ring and Carol was violently pulled form her confession. She pushed silent to quickly to ignore the call. Therese was wide awake now, staring at Carol, trying to rewind her words.

Carol was only briefly jolted from reality, and quickly her desire took over once again and she started to breathe heavily against Therese. Carol could see her desires reflected like a trophy ahead of her. Therese claimed Carl’s lips again, skin moving against skin like silk, leaving a fire behind. Carol captured Therese’s mouth again and started to move against her softly. Carol’s mind was racing, she wanted to just blurt out that she loved Therese - she wanted to shout it from the rooftop. Instead, she moved her hands and lips steadily against the woman again, but was jolted away in the form a harsh ringtone, louder and more persistent than the first.

Carol was ripped from her reality like a caterpillar released too soon from it’s cocoon. She grasped for her phone in the dark, recognizing Rindy’s ringtone. Therese sensed the change in mood from Carol’s jerky reaction she felt as if she could feel Carol separating from her like a vacuum, the air being quickly sucked out of the room.

Carol’s nervous voice answered on the third ring. “Rin- Rindy my snowflake, what is it? What’s the matter?” The latter half of Carol’s sentence was nearly engulfed in sobs. Therese tried to place a hand to Carol’s back to reassure her; but Carol slipped away and walked off towards the balcony. She had shut Therese out. Therese could do nothing but watch and wait, paralyzed.

Carol’s voice came into range again as she walked back slowly from the balcony, still stark naked, moonlight glimmering off her sweaty skin. Therese listened as Carol told Rindy to climb back into bed with 3 of her favorite stuffed animals; and before she could count to 100, Mommy would send an angel to help put her back to bed. Of course... Therese realized suddenly that the angel would be Abby this time. Therese was overcome with a feeling of guilt, though she couldn’t exactly say why.

Tears were streaming down Carol's face when she returned from the balcony after making a second call; presumably to Abby. She was breathing heavily, clearly agitated. Her voice was shaking. Carol had gone out to the balcony to finish the call because she was trying to shield Therese form the drama of her life. The drama that Therese so desperately wanted to be part of. Carol sat down gingerly at the edge of the bed and Therese immediately grasped her hands, the warmth of Therese’s touch soothing Carol instantly, like a balm.

Carol took some steadying breaths and began to explain. Harge had left the house in a drunken rage before dinner time and had not returned. Rindy as alone and didn’t know if her Daddy was ok. Carol felt guilt rise up in her like bile, threatening to spill over and taint everything, her clothes, her weekend. Carol was sobbing quietly now, her shoulders shaking. Therese whispered softly and gently in her ear. “It’s going to be alright, Carol.”

This time Carol did shake her off gently. “I told Rindy before I left this weekend that she should only contact me if it was a serious emergency. I wanted so badly to protect my time here this weekend. And because I said that, my poor daughter waited hours and hours to call me. She was alone, and part of that is my fault.”

Carol was standing now, and pacing nervously around the room. Therese was silent, she didn’t know how best to help Carol. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to run to Carol and hug her, to persuade Carol to let her in. She didn’t know how to explain to Carol that she wanted to be able to face these things together. Didn’t she understand how much stronger they could be together?

A suitcase appeared suddenly, thrown out of the closet, and Carol followed. She was packing. Therese stood to start to follow, but Carol stopped her. “You should stay here, Darling. The hotel is paid for and you have a reception to attend tomorrow afternoon.” I’ll change my ticket and try to get home before Harge does.” Home. Therese’s mind was spinning. She realized that she didn’t think of New York as home ten minutes ago. Home was anywhere where she shared a bed with Carol. But Carol’s home was something vastly different, and Therese wasn’t even a part of it.

Therese still couldn’t move or speak, everything was happening so fast. Carol slipped on her shoes and bent to kiss Therese, a chaste dry peck to her lips. Where there had previously been abundant moisture, Therese now felt her entire body had been sucked dry. Carol rushed from the room and as the hotel door slammed shut behind her, Therese let her own tears fall.


	16. Control is an Illusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for coming back to this story. I had a ... how to describe it... weird/difficult time with this chapter and it ended up a lot different than I had originally planned it, after many edits. This version is the most true to the Carol I'm trying to write - her journey is something I want to get exactly right. I also really wanted to show everyone more of who Abby is in this chapter as well. I hope you like it! Thanks again for continuing to comment with your thoughts, I appreciate each and every one of them.

** Chapter 16: Control is an Illusion **

**_Boston, 2013_ **

  

> _“I craft most of my own tragedies without ever having even the remotest understanding that it is I myself who have done the crafting.”_ _~ Craig D. Lounsbrough_
> 
> _“The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely.”_  
>  _~ Lorraine Hansberry_
> 
>  

Therese took a sharp breath in the space Carol left when she let the hotel door close behind her in Boston. Her chest was tight, her head spinning. Suddenly, the reality of her relationship with Carol slapped her in the face. She shivered with the sudden thought that she was alone, both literally and figuratively. All the promises and thoughts that trembled on Carol’s lips had never been uttered… Therese had never known them as truths. Therese only saw her hope and happiness being peeled away before her eyes like an onion; coldness creeping in and stinging her naked skin.

~***~

Carol trembled and shook as she made her way to her seat on the plane. She was flying coach, since it was a last minute decision to fly back to New York. The small plane sat two per row, and Carol took her seat in the aisle next to a jovial elderly woman wearing a bright pink hat. Carol was hoping that this woman wouldn’t try to start up a conversation. She didn’t. Carol felt relieved, and melted into her seat as the plane took off; the sudden velocity seemingly ripping her further away from Therese in its ascension. As the plane steadied in altitude Carol opened her eyes. She ordered a drink. She tried to keep all of her emotions in check, behind her high walls. But somewhere around fifteen minutes into the flight, Carol's emotions burst like a levee, sobs ripping from her chest. The older woman in the pink hat still said nothing, but a plump arm reached around Carol’s shoulder and held her, and Carol was grateful for that.

**~***~**

**_New York, Summer ebbs to Fall, 2013_ **

When Therese returned form Boston, the Carol she returned to was changed. She was withdrawn, silent… almost forlorn. Therese could never describe the change, even when Dannie asked her pointedly about it. She just knew Carol had pulled away. The best way she understood it was that the piece of Carol that Therese was allowed to see had dwindled in size. There were sharp edges and boundaries now. There were closed doors. There were secrets.

Carol overcompensated with Therese at first, thrilled about Therese’s reception in Boston and also eager for Therese to be back in school. Carol overindulged her with her writing - even coddled her a bit. Carol kept reminding Therese that she would only be teaching one of Therese’s courses, now that Therese had progressed through the program. Therese started to see glimpses of a future where there should be no obstacles to being with Carol.

Therese started to grasp at these straws that Carol was throwing out, in an effort to rekindle their connection. Therese often didn’t care how they came together, as long as they were together. She hoped to milk the sadness out of Carol with time, with her touch. Therese knew that if Carol would just allow her to be a part of her life, not just a secret she hid in the shadows - she knew that they could face anything together. She knew they would be stronger together.

Carol wasn’t open. Carol was in free fall. Every time she started to daydream about her life with Therese, she thought of her daughter. Rindy was growing quickly, but at her age she still also very much needed her mother. Rindy was terrified of Harge’s behavior. She was afraid of being alone with him, because he would yell and act belligerently. Harge had essentially found a way to capture Carol without touching her. He found a way to kidnap her in her home; to make her a prisoner because of her love for her own daughter.

Urgent, vivid nightmares kept Carol from sleeping much or often at the hotel that had become her private space with Therese. Carol dreamed of Rindy, alone in the house - or worse, in the house with Harge raging. Carol would wake screaming, sweaty and grasping. Therese would embrace her then, feeling Carol’s heart pounding against her chest and breath panting into her breasts as she stroked Carol’s sweaty hair and wiped away her tears. And then Therese would gather her own knees to her chest and draw the blanket around her. Anything to brush out the sudden chill, as Carol inevitably dressed slowly in the dark and silently slipped out of the hotel room.

~***~

Therese was determined to get through to Carol again. She missed her Carol. She missed the fun-loving woman she knew - the spontaneous woman who would strip naked in her office in the middle of the day and allow Therese to paint her body with different flavors of yoghurt and ice cream toppings stolen from the Columbia cafeteria. She missed licking and loving Carol's centre. Carol hadn’t allowed her down there since Boston. Carol was holding Therese back from her cunt like she was afraid - like she was a virgin at summer camp.

In her fear, Carol’s dominance prevailed. When she was completely dominant, she didn’t have to worry about relinquishing control. If Therese was hers, she was hers completely - to tickle, to tantalize. Therese was hers to fuck and to tease, to break apart, as she did - crumbling and dripping into Carol’s mouth. Therese was too much in awe (and too much in ecstasy) to complain. Carol lied to herself about everything during these days, but most of all she lied to herself by thinking this behavior would help protect Therese.

Carol never put herself on display again after that night in Boston, an essential step in rebuilding her ice walls. Carol never again surrendered herself fully to her emotions and her desires. Therese was initially persistent in her pursuit - her tongue soft and generous against Carol’s clit. Carol felt helpless to resist, and so she gave up Therese’s mouth - forever. She relinquished that feeling of her cunt contracting and expanding under Therese’s gentle tongue. She threw it away like ashes in the wind; like a devout Catholic sacrificing during lent. She offered no explanation, as no explanation would satisfy Therese. She simply stopped allowing Therese to put her mouth there.

Therese felt frustrated by her lack of ability to please Carol, but she could never feel frustrated for long - because she knew Carol still craved her, still wanted and needed her. Well… at least she wanted her. Whether or not Carol still needed her seemed suddenly a burning question for Therese. Carol wasn’t getting off. Therese remembered the beginning of their sexual relationship quite well - Carol’s need to orgasm, her rumbling, gasping breaths as Therese delivered her. All of that was gone. The burning passion in Carol's eyes - also gone. The look that had replaced that passion was one of domineering, of control and… of order. Therese wanted to explain - she wanted to break a kiss or a touch and tell Carol that she needed her - to tell her that she wanted to taste her. To just tell her - oh god…. to tell her that she missed her so. But just looking in Carol’s deep blue eyes told Therese that she was miles away.

~***~

As the fall semester eased into routine, Carol enjoyed her meetings with Abby more and more. There was nothing else normal about her life, and she thus felt her time with Abby grounded her, brought her back to reality. They were sitting at their usual booth and Carol was pouring herself some tea when she suddenly felt compelled to open up to Abby. It was whimsical, but Carol felt she had been teetering between two lives for almost a year now, and her resolve was starting to fray around the edges. She was starting to dance the line with her drinking again, blending excuses with ego to form dangerous webs.

Carol sat the teapot down and spoke suddenly. “I think I’ve created quite a paradox for myself, Abagail.” Abby glanced up from the book she was reading and removed her glasses. Abby knew quite well what Carol was hinting at. Abby knew everything. She had watched Carol torture herself endlessly since the night in Boston months ago. She had watched helplessly as Carol continued to botch her future with Therese, to grumble and spit at it; seemingly without fear of how precarious it had grown to be.

Abby and Carol had never had an outright conversation about the aftermath of that night in Boston, but Abby listened over time as Carol spoke in rhymes; and she watched as the light died in Therese’s eyes. It was with this secret knowledge that Abby spoke now; with a soft ache in her heart for Therese - a woman she should despise and be jealous of. Instead, Abby felt only bitter regret and sadness for the young woman who had been taken up into Carol’s wake like storm debris.

“Don’t even start,” Abby stated pointedly. “God, Carol, you know - I’m starting to think maybe you get off on all this self-sabotage. It’s masochistic the way you throw yourself into this emotional deja vu, like you want to feed it because it’s what your heart knows best.” Carol sat her cup down, her eyes wide from her best friends brutal honesty. Even Abby was somewhat shocked at her own candor.

Abby softened her tone and took Carol’s hand in a well-known gesture. “Carolyn Aird. You deserve to be happy. I don’t know how many times we have to sit here and have this same conversation, but I love you - and we’ll have it as many times as it takes.” Carol’s gaze drifted down a little, and Abby corrected their eye contact with a soft hand to Carol’s chin. “You’ve suffered enough already for what happened in Boston, and Rindy is fine. She’s more than fine. You think that you have to punish yourself by sleeping in three different places in one night, or by spending less time with Therese, or prostrating yourself to Harge….it’s you who has chosen to wallow in that circle of endless self-pity. We’ll pull you out, we always do…but - my god, Carol. Take a step back and look at what you’re doing to her.”

Carol’s eyes shot up now, an edge of defensiveness in her tone as Abby had touched a nerve. “You just said yourself that Rindy is fine!”

Abby just stared back at her coldly, Carol having proved her own point. “I’m not talking about Rindy,” Abby stated definitively; letting the following silence sink in, letting Carol ruminate on her words. “You have said yourself hundreds of times that Harge is a good father. He made a drunken mistake that night, and if the fallout was anything like I imagine, he’s good and scared now. Carol, look at me and tell me that you know Harge would never knowingly put Rindy in danger. He would never hurt her. Carol, you know he would never… you know it.” Abby was leaning forward in the booth now, pleading with Carol. Carol acknowledged the question with a curt nod of her head.

“I’ve never seen someone look at another human being the way Therese looks at you,” Abby said quietly, after a few brief minutes of silence had washed away some of the tension in the room. Carol just nodded, as she could see that same image in her own mind - Therese’s green eyes looking up at her with complete abandon, with complete trust. Carol didn’t have to ask if Therese loved her, it was impossible to misread what was written all over her face. Abby watched her friend, as Carol was sucked into her visions.

Therese had never talked to Abby about her concerns over the past few months, but she didn’t really have to. When they were at dinner parties together, Abby would watch Therese when Carol refilled her wine glass for the fifth or sixth time. She saw the fear in her eyes. Lately, she has seen Therese around campus late into the evening, and Abby had guessed this was because Carol was spending all of her evenings at home.

One night last week, Therese was up late sipping coffee in this very shop, and Abby didn’t notice she was seated behind her until she heard Therese’s voice answering her phone. “Hey baby.” Therese had whispered it - softly. Abby tensed in the booth, feeling as if she was caught spying. Therese’s tone became quickly strained, a terse, “ok, fine - if that’s what you need to do.” There was a clash then, as Therese had slammed her phone onto the table. Abby had not heard her say goodbye. Abby watched discretely as Therese crossed her arms and laid her head on them atop the table, silent sobs rippling down her shoulders. Abby remembered she had wanted to put a hand on the young woman’s back. She had wanted to sit across from her and grasp her hands. More than anything, though - she had wanted to tell her that she understood what she was going through. Being shut out by Carol Aird was like being thrust naked into the coldest forest.

Carol cleared her throat, bringing Abby’s attention back to the present. Abby shook her head sadly, a tear in the corner of her eye. It was difficult for Abby to show emotion in front of Carol, it made her feel too vulnerable. Abby’s thoughts flashed briefly to her horror when she realized Carol had noticed Gen’s marks on her neck. But Abby couldn’t deny the strength of the feelings she had about her best friend’s situation. She couldn’t just sit there and watch Carol slowly dismantle her life in front of her eyes. This wasn’t the first time… but it was certainly the weightiest, the scariest time Abby had ever watched Carol straining and fighting against reason to spin into a lonely, desolate freefall.

“You’re going to push her away before either of you get the chance to tell each other how radically and overwhelmingly in love you are.” Carol was silent, she couldn’t deny the truth in those words. She couldn’t deny that that was exactly what her mind was straining to do - all under the guise of releasing Therese - of sparing Therese pain. What a cliche she was. Abby was fully enraged now, her tone elevated; cheeks flushed. “Is it because that makes it easier for you? It’s easier if no one puts words to truths that even outsiders can see? It’ll be easier to break her that way, Carol?” Carol put out a strong hand, a deliberate gesture to Abby, pleading with her to halt her verbal assault.

Abby leaned back into the booth, taking a less aggressive stance. “I just think it would be wise, Carol; if you find yourself deciding to break that woman apart for a second time; that you do it for an actual and damn good reason.” Abby finished her tea in a single gulp and surprised Carol by standing up resolutely and walking away.

~***~

**_November, 2013_ **

Therese was at her loft tonight, and she had moved Kitty home almost week ago. She just no longer felt comfortable spending time in the giant hotel room by herself. She had ordered everything on the room service menu. She had watched every movie on pay-per-view. She had been to the spa, and even to yoga class. She was over it. Now even the smell of the freshly washed sheets reminded her of loneliness - of the hours she spent either waiting for Carol, or feeling bereft after Carol had left. The feelings she had in that room were tainted in so many ways that Therese couldn’t remember the joy and happiness she had experienced in that same room months ago. Today, on her way out of the lobby with Kitty in tow, Therese had stopped at the concierge desk and informed them that Carol Aird was checking out of the penthouse.

~***~

Carol put Rindy to bed early after dinner, Harge was already home for the night. Carol couldn’t hide her excitement at the thought of being able to spend a whole evening with Therese, and Harge shook his head at his wife as Carol frantically cleaned the dishes and slammed them back into the cabinets. Carol turned and caught him staring at her. “Carol, why don’t you let me fuck you tonight. I just don’t think you remember what it can be like to have a man.” Carol looked at him blankly, completely unsure of how to respond to the comment - or was it a question? Harge surely wasn’t drunk - he had only had a glass of wine with dinner. Carol’s mind was racing.

“Harge, I have no desire to ‘let you’ fuck me, but thanks for the offer.” Harge took several steps toward her, backing her into the darkened corner of the kitchen. Carol experienced a brief flash of fear as she met his dark brown eyes, saw they were clouded with rage - and with lust. “Back away, Harge. You have no idea what I want, what I like. You have no idea how to fuck me, to please me, to make me come. It’s as if the words aren’t even in your vocabulary.” Carol was shocked as a hand came up and grasped her neck, Harge’s eyes were wide and white with rage. Carol held his gaze resolutely, acutely aware of the strength behind his grasp. Harge spat in her face, then released her neck and walked out of the room, leaving Carol gasping.

It was with renewed determination that Carol showered, washing all traces of Harge from her face, from her skin. It was with new purpose that she tucked Rindy in one more time before leaving the house with a bag. It wasn’t her usual purse, but a bag of clothes for the weekend. As Carol drove quickly towards the hotel, Abby’s words echoed in her head. She couldn’t let Therese drift away. Because when she had told Harge all of the things he wasn’t - she realized all of the things Therese was.

~***~

A breathless Carol Aird hurriedly drove towards Therese’s loft, emotional and surprisingly sweaty for a late November evening. She had made the concierge at the hotel check her account three times when she was told that Carol Aird had checked out. “But _I'm_ Carol Aird,” she had stated hopelessly, anger and dread rising in her throat like acid. “My girlfriend and I - she has a ca…I mean she has things here.”

The concierge smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Aird. There are now new guests in the penthouse suite. Someone checked out of your room this morning using your name, and had your keys and credit card information.” Carol swallowed. The worst case scenario was confirmed. Therese had left.

Carol knocked quietly on the loft door. She could hear music filtering from behind the thin walls - Therese’s music. When there was no response, she knocked louder; only to then hear the music turned louder. “Therese, I know you’re in there. Can we please talk?”

Therese was at the door quicker than Carol expected. “I’m not trying to avoid you Carol. I’m just trying to… work, I’m trying to write.” Therese moved away from the doorway, and Carol glimpsed kitty on the counter as she entered the small space.

“If you’re not trying to avoid me why did you check me out of my own hotel room and move all of our shit out without even talking to me?” Carol was carefully tempering her tone, letting her anger boil under check.

An equal anger flashed in Therese’s eyes, flush rising in both woman’s cheeks. “Our shit?,” Therese spat. “Just a minute, let me just gather up the stuff that was yours that you kept in the hotel.” She mockingly gestured around the apartment. “Nothing, Carol - none of your ‘shit.’ So don’t get mad that I took all of MY shit, and left;” her voice raised as she escalated, the end of her rant squeaking with pain and vanquished tears - “because it’s fucking lonely there, Carol!”

Carol dropped her bag in defeat, her blue eyes reflecting horror and sadness at Therese’s bold revelation. Therese silently chastised herself, she warned herself to avoid Carol’s gaze; but the bold exit from the hotel took about all the strength Therese could muster for one day. Resisting Carol wasn’t something that came naturally. It didn’t seem to matter how angry and sad she had felt just hours ago. Now all that Therese could feel was the magnetic pull towards Carol, it was animalistic - it was infuriating.

Carol closed the gap between them quickly, gathering Therese into her arms. Therese’s voice was muffled as she breathed against Carol’s chest. “I know you’re trying to do what’s best for Rindy,” Therese sniffed loudly. “I know you’re a good mother, and a good professor, and a good writer, and painter - and you have to be so good at so many things.” Carol lowered her gaze to meet Therese’s eyes as she continued, “but I miss you, Carol. I miss you, I miss you.” Therese shook her head subtly, trying to ward off the mantra. “I’m sick from my loneliness - I’m sick for wanting you.”

Therese exhaled, all the strength she had leaving her body as she laid her emotions bare in front of Carol; as she exposed her wantonness in its completeness. Eyes closed, she felt Carols strong hand on her jaw, and before she was able to react, Carol’s mouth was all over her, kissing her eyelids and her nose. Carol’s lips prying her own open and her warm tongue slipped inside. It felt like Carol was everywhere, and Therese lost the battle with herself to be bold as Carol cracked her open like an eggshell.

Whimpers left both women as Therese finally became pliant, as she started to move reciprocally against Carol, a shorter thigh coming up between Carol’s legs and wrestling a reluctant squeal from the dominant blonde. But Carol’s tactics hadn’t changed. Carol still held her upper hand like a magic wand, still used her considerably greater strength to maneuver Therese to the ground, ripping her pants and underwear off her legs. Carol stopped only briefly to remove her own clothes, then lay her own naked body over the length of the brunette’s. Carol briefly allowed their centers to touch, allowed Therese to feel how wet she was. Carol briefly but pointedly allowed Therese to brush her clit with her hand, Therese gasped and cried when she felt it, Carol’s wetness like the water she had been searching for in the desert. Therese dipped her head aggressively towards Carol’s pelvis, but a strong hand held her back.

Therese had no will or time to argue, as strong lips again met her own and Carol simultaneously entered her with two fingers, aggressively moving against her front wall without preamble. Therese desperately needed eye contact - if she couldn’t touch Carol she had to at least let Carol read her devotion in her eyes as she moved against her hand. Therese slyly shifted her hips to allow Carol’s clit to come into contact with her thigh, and Carol hummed and smiled at the intrusion.

Carol’s mind was a whirlwind, desperate to shut out the pain she could still hear echoing from Therese’s lips. She wanted to fill the room with Therese’s moans, to deny the hurt she had caused to this woman she loved. This woman who she was so desperately afraid to tell she loved. Carol squeezed her eyes shut and thrust into Therese harder, the hilt of her hand smacking against the younger woman’s clit, both women’s movements becoming sharp and erratic as Carol rocked relentlessly against Therese’s thigh. Carol was fighting for them both, her heart was pounding like a race horse as she drove them both towards the finish.

Carol was momentarily distracted by a squeeze to her hand, and Therese whispered; “open your eyes, Carol. Look at me.” Carol opened her eyes and immediately felt the floodgates of her heart take in water, threatening to capsize the whole ship. The look of love reflected in Therese’s eyes was like a pool she could get lost in, and her center quivered with veiled restraint.

Carol concentrated her free hand on Therese’s clit and she wound the young woman around her fingers tightly. With a final flick of her tongue on the young woman’s nipple, Therese exploded around Carol’s skilled hands; tears falling from clear green eyes. Carol anchored her waist down as she trembled and jerked, splayed open and flaccid in Carol’s hands. It was only when Therese’s eyes fluttered shut, spent from her orgasm, that Carol finally ground her hips harder and came undone against Therese’s leg in quick, jagged sputters.

They both lay on the floor of the loft for many minutes. Carol could read the change in Therese’s breath as she lay with her back to Carol. Carol could see the wheels of thought spinning in Therese’s mind, she could see the delicate balance she had created threaten to tip and spill and ruin her temporary reprieve. She had once again opened Therese up in front of her, made her vulnerable - after she had already been so vulnerable to admit her feelings to Carol. She couldn’t now allow Therese to take a step that she herself couldn’t reciprocate.

Therese turned to Carol and placed a delicate kiss on her collarbone; she licked the sweat from the crevice of her neck. Her gaze met Carol’s lazily, and Therese’s eyes were clouded as if she were intoxicated. She sighed deeply and smiled at Carol, but as she moved to speak; Carol put a finger to her lips. “Don’t say it,” she whispered.


	17. "Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's a Kierkegaard quote titling this chapter, and it's pertinent not only to the content of this chapter, but also the fact that both of these sections are jumps in time - note that as usual. 
> 
> This is the time to start opening up the mystery of how these two women came apart, and how they are eventually coming back together. I'm eager to hear your thoughts about the revelations here, and also about the aspects of the timeline which are also unknown. I love hearing the passages and things that resonate with you as well. I also was really jazzed to hear a rant in the last chapter's comments so let's keep that going too! 
> 
> Thanks so much, dear readers!

** Chapter 17: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards” **

**_December, 2017_ **

 

> _“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answer is simple”_  
>  _~ Dr Suess_
> 
> _“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”_  
>  _~ Jim Morrison_
> 
>  

Therese left the new (but not improved) Ritz bar with quite a buzz. She had lost track of time; those self-serve taps were dangerous. She plodded along the street with a false sense of warmth and her characteristic false sense of direction. She finally gave up after she saw the same building three times; grasping in her bag for her phone to check the GPS.

When she pulled out her phone she noticed three missed calls from the same unknown number. She had put her phone on vibrate after talking to Gen. She flipped to her messages app and saw a text from that same number: “Therese, this is Abby. Please call me. We should talk.” Therese stopped walking and ducked into a heated retail store, her glasses fogging over as she reread the message. Abby. How did she get her number?

Therese found the nearest Starbucks using her GPS. She ordered a strong coffee to help clear her mind and found a quiet corner from which to call Abby. Abby answered the phone on the first ring, her distinctive voice causing chills of memory to prick Therese along the spine, unnamed dread rising up like a seasickness. Therese realized in that moment how true her last words to Carol had been. Therese would love Carol every moment of every day, and all the changes she had made to her life were simply camouflage. It took only a few phone calls and the smells of a bar to remind her of the strength of that connection. Even the bright lights of the city reminded her of Carol, though they seemed dimmer now, somehow.

“Therese, I’m so sorry for this intrusion. I got your number from Gen.”

Therese was silent for a moment, still reeling from the strength of her memories. “I’m sorry, what?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Genevieve Cantrell?,” Abby replied, cautiously.

“Of course, I’m sorry, Abby. I was just trying to - I’m sorry. What can I do for you?” Therese was embarrassed by her rambling, she sounded like a telemarketer.

“I heard you were in town for the show tonight. I can’t tell you how glad I am.”

Therese chuckled a little. “Are you also going to jump on the bandwagon about how important it is for me to be there?”

Abby didn’t even hesitate - “I absolutely am,” she said, soberly. “Gen told me she sensed you may be balking.”

Therese was getting angry now. No one was giving her any information. She felt the angry journalist in her start to grow defensive.“Abby, I’m coming tonight, don’t worry. Everyone calm down. But - since I changed my work schedule to come into town at the behest of one of my exes on behalf of another, shrouded in an air of secrecy and creepiness, maybe you could do me the small return courtesy of telling me what the fuck is going on.”

Abby chuckled a bit at this. “I do miss your wit, Therese. You always knew how to turn a phrase.” Abby didn’t pause for long, she sensed the rising anger in Therese’s voice. “Of course, of course. We’re just worried about Carol, is all. She’s changed since you left.”

“So I heard,” Therese responded tersely. “Changed how?” Before giving Abby a chance to respond, Therese shook her head, “I take that back. I don’t want to know, I don’t want to do this again, Abby.”

Abby sighed and finally spoke in a lower tone. “I know you think you know the routine, that you know the story. But that’s only the first part. Can we talk in person?"

Therese was growing frustrated, and she was bolstered in confidence by her ongoing beer buzz. “Maybe, but what’s the first part? The predictable part?”

“Yes, absolutely. Quite predictable.” Abby’s voice was now definitive, but still shaky.

“Ok, Abby. Why don’t you start by telling me the predictable part and we’ll go from there. Why do people always assume you’ll take bad news better in person? Let’s just see how this story plays out. I’m ready. I think you know I can take it.”

Abby took a deep breath and sighed, as if preparing herself for some sort of journey. “I think you know what state of mind Carol was in around the time you left, the situation at home, the drinking. No one blames you, by the way, least of all me. I understand why you left. But that doesn’t change the story.” Therese was silent, the seriousness of the topic starting to set in.

Abby continued, starting to tell the story of early 2015, a time when Therese was throwing herself into her new job, grieving in her own separate but equal way. “Carol became reluctant to leave the house, to leave the guest suite, specifically. I got most of my intel from Rindy, who was the only person allowed to enter that space at the time.” Therese cringed, picturing exactly where this was going, her heart breaking both for Carol and for her daughter.

“According to Rindy, Carol would disappear into that room for four or five days at a time, holed up with a microwave, mini-fridge, and a case of bourbon. Rindy’s best description to me was that Carol was ‘drinking a lot of gross brown stuff’, and that she ‘smelled really bad.’ Therese remained silent, but her heart was screaming with pain. She thought back to her own alcohol binges at that time, she thought about how she and Carol were simultaneously and wildly spinning out of control due to the loss of their shared orbit, the loss of their gravitational pull to each other.

“The violence had escalated against Carol, but Rindy was safe. Carol was working to try to get enough documentation to compete with Harge’s to get full custody of Rindy. I kept urging her to file the case but she kept saying that she wanted it to be ‘air tight,’ that she didn’t want to risk losing her daughter or even risk the ruling of joint custody - she didn’t want to ever have to see him again, Therese.” Therese cringed at the thought of Harge, and she didn’t want to know what Abby meant by escalated violence. She knew that Harge had threatened Carol and was belligerent and scary. She didn’t know about physical violence. She started to shiver and cry; letting a chocked sob leak through without her permission.

Abby stopped when she heard the sound, immediately thinking she had gone too far, that she was scaring Therese away before she was even able to tell her why she had asked her her to come. “Are you ok, Therese?”

Therese sniffed, a swollen pause followed. “I’m ok,” she finally replied. “But I don’t know that I want to hear all this, Abby. I mean, besides the fact that it’s fucking heartbreaking, I don’t know what it actually changes. Don’t you understand that I know how this cycle goes with Carol, too? You pull her out of her depression and drinking spiral and she paints something brilliant. Harge makes a concession and it’s back to playing house and sneaking around in hotels. Don’t you know that one of the reasons I left is because I can’t do the whole charade anymore, Abby? I can’t relive this hellish deja vu again, when I’ve finally extricated myself from it.”

Abby was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to proceed. Finally she decided on brevity. “Therese. Harge is in prison.”

Therese knocked over the small amount of remaining coffee in her cup and furrowed her brow tightly. Abby was right, they should talk. Therese’s mind was spinning and she thought she might throw up all the coffee and beer, which was churning in her stomach like an angry mob. “Where can I meet you?” she asked Abby cooly, her voice betraying her racing heart.

_~***~_

**_December, 2014_ **

> _“I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. But this time it felt final. Like I would never see her again, or that when I did, it would be different - there would be a mountain between us. I know it in my bones. This time was it. I had finally made my choice and so had she. She let me go.”_  
>  _~ All the Light We Cannot See_
> 
> _“Every time we chose safety, we reinforce fear.”_  
>  _~ Cheri Huber_

 

Therese let the box of portfolios and post-it notes crash on the top of Carol’s stoop, exhaling heavily. She had underestimated its weight and the distance she had to walk from the subway to drop it off. She was suddenly sweating under her heavy winter coat. She glanced at her watch, it was after 2 am. There was little chance of anyone seeing her here in this neighborhood at this hour. She shrugged off her coat and dug in her jeans pocket for a cigarette; tore one of the matches off the packet from the Ritz. She exhaled her first drag with a loud sigh as she sat down on the cold stoop.

Her decision weighed heavily on her and she felt an odd sense of comfort from being on the stoop; like a halfway house between the two radically different paths she had to chose from. She flicked the thought from her mind, though, as she remembered that this all had very little to do with choice. It wasn’t her choice that Carol had decided not to let her in; not to love her. And it certainly wasn’t her choice to leave New York. Without Carol, staying at Columbia would be unbearable.

A light snow started to fall from the sky as Therese was yanked from her thoughts. The heavy metal and glass door to the apartment building swung open; sucking the cold air in towards it. Carol looked shocked to see Therese sitting there, making Therese wonder how many late night strolls Carol took at this hour. Carol’s eyes fell on the box of portfolios and Therese watched her countenance change as she took in its meaning.

Therese had learned by now that tarrying would only make it exponentially harder for her to leave. She hurriedly put her coat back on and started walking down the stoop. Carol tried to put a hand out to reach her, but slipped and nearly fell on the freshly fallen snow. Therese briefly turned to see if she was all right, giving Carol the only opening and hook she needed - eye contact. “Therese, wait;” she yelled loudly into the quiet night. “Please.”

Therese turned back slowly to look up at her, maintaining distance by staying at the bottom of the stairs. “There is nothing left to say Carol. You made yourself clear. I understand. I’m not here to fight with you again, to beg for you. I’m done begging.” She paused, struggling for composure. “I’m sorry, I can’t be here anymore.” She glanced back down to the ground then, avoiding further eye contact. As the silence and cold that followed threaten to freeze her, she turned and started walking away.

“I love you, Therese.”

The words hit Therese like spears in her back, the words rolling over and over in her ears, bouncing frantically around in her brain. The three words she had longed for, that she had thirsted for. She reveled in the characteristics of it, at the way Carol’s voice said the words. It was all warmth with an edge of want, her sultry tone like being enveloped by an cozy blanket. Suddenly Therese was hit with an unbearable sadness, a sense of loss that seemed definitive, palpable. It wasn’t the usual reaction to hearing someone utter those words.

In her mind, all she could see behind her eyes was years of wasted time - enormous, gaping, incomprehensibly ironic waste. She thought of all the times she could have heard those words as Carol lie panting across her chest, as Carol breathed into her mouth. All those times those words could have calmed her, brought her peace, anchored her home. All the times she herself uttered the words, only to be treated with silence in return, or with substitute kisses to shut her out further. The clarity and enormity of it made Therese smile sardonically, a slight chuckle escaping her lips.

Carol had climbed halfway down the stairs now, aching to move closer to Therese, but respectful of the distance she so clearly needed. “It doesn’t matter, Carol.”

Carol took a step back in surprise from the grit with which Therese had spat the words. “What, what do you mean?,” she stammered, uncaring of how fragile and broken she must look. Therese leaned against the railing and lit another cigarette.

“You spent so many months trying to avoid those words, as if they were a curse. I know you love me, Carol. But it wasn’t just about saying it. It was about you letting me in, it was a symbol of that. But you couldn’t - you can’t. You let your whole life crumble all around and on top of both of us, but then decided no one was worthy of helping you work through it… not even the person who was in there with you.”

Carol reached towards Therese instinctively, sensing the truth in her words; but Therese put a strong hand out in front of her as she continued. “You thought that would make it easier for you, for me - for us.” Therese took a steadying breath and flicked her cigarette at Carol’s feet. “Tell me, Carol - does all this feel easier to you?”

Carol was sobbing now, stooping to sit on the box of portfolios. Therese saw her opportunity to make her exit, despite the draw in her chest to go to Carol’s side. “I love you, Carol. I love you, I love you, I love you. You’re the love of my life, and you’re the only true love I will ever know. I’ll love you every moment, of every day, for every day I have left.” Therese paused for emphasis. “This way makes it easier, Carol; because at least I’ve been honest.” Therese walked away without turning back this time.


	18. Let it Bend Before it Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! To start - I posted Chapter 17 very shortly after 16, so make sure you caught that before you read this one! 
> 
> I love the passion and emotion with which you all have responded to this story, and the way you have reflected that in your incredibly generous comments. I really do look forward to reading and trying to respond to each one, so thank you so much, in advance, for the motivation to continue writing. These comments, ideas, and thoughts really do keep me going! 
> 
> Lastly - yes - the title of this chapter is from a Brandi Carlile song ;)

** Chapter 18: Let it Bend Before it Breaks **

**_March, 2014_ **

 

> _“Nothing and no one in the world could kill the love I have for you. I have surrendered my whole individuality, the very essence of my being to you. I have given you my body time after time to treat as you pleased. All the hoardings of my imagination I have laid bare to you. There isn’t a recess in my brain into which you haven’t penetrated. I have clung to you and caressed you and slept with you and I would like to tell the whole world that I clamor for you. You are my lover and I am your mistress, and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination - the most powerful in the world.”_  
>  _~ Violet Trefusis (in a letter to her lover, Vita Sackville-West)_
> 
> _“I was thinking too much about how I didn’t want you to go. I didn’t want to kiss you goodbye - that was the trouble. I wanted to kiss you goodnight - and there’s a lot of difference.”_  
>  _~ Ernest Hemmingway_

 

Therese and Dannie had grown closer over the past months since Therese’s relationship with Carol had taken an odd turn in Boston. Therese had found Dannie to be wise beyond his young years. He was shy and spoke awkwardly, which is probably why he had shit luck with women. Once Therese convinced him that she had thick skin and wouldn’t turn him out when he expressed himself honestly, Dannie had been a reliable and important sounding board for Therese as her life was disastrously and unpredictably churning around her.

Dannie was growing increasingly resentful and suspicious of Carol Aird’s role in Therese’s life. He sincerely loved Therese. He found that he settled into the friend role quite comfortably. He had realized long ago that he and Therese were not romantically suited for one another; and he had felt nothing but complete joy for his friend when Carol finally came to her senses and she and Therese were able to be together. But that was a long time ago now, and the weightiness of the transition in their relationship fell on Dannie's conscious like so many bricks.

The two friends were seated at the bar at the Ritz Tower. Johnnie was tending bar, and he was discretely serving Dannie and Therese from Carol’s stashed bourbon reserve. “Carol not coming tonight?,” Johnnie asked cautiously. Even the bartender had noticed Carol’s increasingly lengthy absences. Johnnie had been flirting with Dannie, because he got a kick out of how conspicuously frank and honest Dannie became when he was drunk.

Dannie was confident in his own sexuality, and wasn’t afraid to flirt right back. He was a few bourbons in, but the uncomfortable silence which followed Johnnie’s question prompted Dannie to speak up.“Of course Carol isn’t coming tonight, Johnnie. In any sense of the word.” He smirked as he pushed his glass across the slippery bar in a gesture for a refill. Therese’s mouth gaped open in shock and she punched her friend harshly on the arm. Dannie reacted with his characteristic quick, wry smile.

“I can’t deny the truth in those words,” Therese slurred.

“Listen, T,” Dannie was looking at her now, a glass raised in his hand in a mock toast. “I don’t want to disparage our benefactress here tonight.” Johnnie reached over with his glass and clinked it to Dannie’s. “But, Therese. Come on. When are we going to address the elephant in the room?”

Therese could only nod; the seriousness of the tone in the bar had suddenly been turned way up. Johnnie sensed their need for privacy. He patted Therese on the back and gave her a strong squeeze to the shoulder, then meandered off to check on the patrons at the other end of the bar. Dannie turned his stool to face Therese and spoke before she had a chance to react. “I know that you love Carol, and that, in her own twisted way, she loves you too. But she can’t even say it to you, Therese. She’s so caught up in her own shit that she’s drowning in it. How is it not my job to hope that you don’t get drowned by it too?”

Therese wasn’t shocked by the frankness of his remarks - she was used to that by now. But his tone of voice shocked her - it was a fierce protectiveness; hedged with fear. He wasn’t fucking around. “What do you propose I do Dannie? If you are trying to throw me a life preserver here, to rescue my stupid ass that waded too far into the river, go on. What do you suggest?”

Dannie seemed prepared for this question. “I think you should focus on your writing. Focus on something that is just for you, for a change. Focus on your career, what you want to do since you’re almost done at Columbia.”

Therese fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. She had been thinking about this topic relentlessly; thoughts which woke her from sleep, which always gnawed at the edges of her mind. She had a feeling Dannie knew that. She felt helpless. It was beyond what people always called “writer’s block.” She didn’t feel blocked, she just felt she had nothing important to say. She didn’t understand her own emotions enough to describe them, and she always drew her inspiration from within herself. Therese’s gift had always been her ability to describe emotions in a heart-wrenchingly granular detail, like bringing a microscope up to the reader’s heart through her words. Her own heart was in such turmoil, she felt disconnected from her own world. It was like trying to write without knowing the language.

Dannie’s voice broke her thoughts as he nudged her freshly-topped bourbon glass towards her. Therese hadn’t even noticed Johnnie coming to refill it. “I think you should take this Journalism course with me.”

Therese just laughed. “Woah, ok. That was random enough to be completely unexpected.”

“Can you just hear me out?,” Dannie pleaded. “The class just started and you could take it for free since you’re an MFA student. I’ve always found your writing to be descriptive and smart. You have activism in your blood. You care about people deeply; care about their stories. I just think you’d make a really fucking great reporter.”

She swirled her pinkie finger in her bourbon glass. “Carol wouldn’t like it,” she whispered.

Dannie grunted. “So? You’d like it. Trust me. I know you, Therese. Also - don’t you think that it would be good for you to try something new, become immersed in something that makes you happy, for a change?” Therese was silent, but Dannie was undeterred. “I’ll take it from your lack of response that you understand my unspoken words here, T. You can’t give yourself up because of her.”

Therese suddenly snapped to attention, as if coming out of a daze. “I’m not going to lose focus on my career just because I’m trying to take care of her, Dannie. This isn’t the 1950s, I can have a personal life and a professional one without compromising on either.” Dannie didn’t come back with his characteristic quick reply, and she looked up to find him grinning at her. “What?,” she asked, defensively.

“That’s it, right there. When you got defensive about losing sight of your writing goals, it wasn’t because you and Carol were focusing on your relationship and your shared future; or because you were just so happy you couldn’t possibly make time to do anything but snuggle and fuck. You said it was because you were trying to take care of her.” He paused, letting his words sink in, and then placed a firm hand on Therese’s shoulder when he noticed her eyes start to glean with unshed tears. “You’re not responsible for all of this, Therese. This is not your responsibility.”

Therese sat up, her posture betraying her lack of confidence. “I love her, Dannie. I don’t expect you to understand what I mean by that, but it’s… weightier than that. I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t know how to be anything else. And this - with Carol - this is what I’m doing. This is what I want to be doing. So can we please not have this conversation again?”

Dannie looked defeated. “Ok, Therese. But don’t expect me to just sit by and watch your heart be trampled by that woman again. You know I’m going to speak my mind when it comes to her, right?”

Therese smiled, wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I know,” she said.

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them thinking of the unsaid. Therese thought of Carol, at home tonight with Harge because she sensed he had too much to drink and was “raging more than usual.” Therese knew this could be true, but it also could just mean that Carol herself had too much to drink and was embarrassed that she couldn’t leave the apartment. Either scenario was incredibly sad. Both professors Aird were using Rindy as an excuse to cover for their own selfish behaviors; in a guise to “protect” her. Maybe Dannie was right. Maybe it was Therese’s turn to be a bit selfish. “I’ll look into the class, Dannie.”

He snapped to attention, setting his glass on the bar and giving her his full attention. “You’re serious?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean… if I’m being completely honest with myself, I haven’t written anything really new, anything that felt right - anything good - for a really long time. I’m being defensive about all of this because I know you’re right. I don’t know if it’s because of what is going on with Carol, or just because this happens all the time in writing careers. It doesn’t really matter why. It just is.” She sipped her bourbon and grasped his hand with her own. “So yeah. I’ll look into it.” He smiled at her and coaxed her to lie her head on his shoulder.

~***~

It was close to midnight when Therese finally heard from Carol. She had just returned to her studio and dropped her bags at the door. She was frantically searching her small refrigerator for a late night snack when she heard the characteristic chirp from her phone in her bag - a text from Carol. She flipped her phone out of her bag while holding a beer and a bag of pretzels precariously in one hand. “I’m on my way over, Angel. Please wait for me - before you go to sleep ;)” Therese sighed and rubbed her temples. She wasn’t hoping for another long night. She was shocked at this revelation but - she couldn’t deny it… she wished Carol wasn’t coming over.

Therese had nodded off on the sofa and didn’t wake until after Carol had let herself into the apartment, even though Carol was drunk and had stumbled into the doorway, creating a lot of noise and a squeal from Kitty. Carol silently thanked the gods for Therese missing that little display. It was after 1:30 when Carol finally knelt next to the sofa and gently swept the hair back from Therese’s face as she silently watched her sleep. At first, Therese seemed peaceful, but then Carol recognized her waking from an unpleasant dream, her brow furrowing as her eyes opened quickly.

Therese opened her eyes to see Carol’s face above her; slowly registering the feeling of Carol’s soft hands on her face. All of her thoughts from the night before were vanquished as she looked up at Carol’s hair glowing golden yellow in the low light. Carol was smiling at her brightly. “You’re so beautiful, Therese.” Carol kissed her cheek gently, Therese closed her eyes and allowed the feeling to soak through her skin. She sat up on the couch, much to Carol’s consternation. Therese wanted to talk to Carol, to be with her. As much as she enjoyed making love to Carol, she didn’t want to just fuck and fall asleep - only to wake in the morning alone again; barely ten words spoken between them.

Therese recognized the sleepy look in Carol’s eyes. She had been drinking. Therese knew she wasn’t obliterated; knew Carol wasn’t at her characteristic worst - that was when she wouldn’t remember anything tomorrow. There was just enough of a buzz to obscure the usually vibrant blue of her eyes, to harsh the usual piercing gaze. It was still enough to lessen Carol’s usual magnetism, though; Therese slipping through it’s grasp more easily each time. It was enough to crack the veneer of Carol’s perfect image, to allow Therese enough separation from her emotions to start to view the horrifying inside of Carol’s life - to really see it.

Therese kissed Carol’s lips softly, pulling back when Carol started to push against her urgently. “What happened tonight, Carol?,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I wanted to see you. I waited at the bar for a long time. You know I can’t just always… wait. I’m always waiting around for you.”

Carol’s brow furrowed, the words clearly hurting her. “I’m sorry, Angel. It was after dinner when Harge finally got home. He was upset about something that had nothing to do with myself or Rindy. He was just - yelling. I didn’t know if he would calm down or if I’d need to stay all night. He finally went to sleep so I snuck out to see you. I needed to see you, to hold you.”

Therese shook her head sadly. “I hate that you have to sneak around for me. I hate that I can’t just see you when I want to see you. Even now I know you’ve got an alarm set on your phone so you can get back before either of them wake up. It just feels so dirty, Carol. I’m so fucking sick of this.” Therese stood up, pulling away from Carol’s grasp on her wrist. “And I know you’re drunk again - and how can I even be mad if I know it’s because that’s the only way you can drown your guilt. How do you think it feels to be the person who is the cause of that - of all this?”

Carol’s eyes and voice became suddenly clear and sobered, an anger boiling up underneath it all, buoying her. She frightened Therese with the intensity of her stare, so much so that Therese didn’t even notice to resist when she grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to her. Therese was standing facing where Carol was seated on the couch; Carol sneaked a long arm around Therese’s buttocks to pull her even closer and lowered her head to rest against the younger woman’s abdomen. Their breaths steadied as both took in the implications of Therese’s words.

When Carol raised her head and Therese again met her gaze, she could see the love reflected there. “This isn’t your fight, Therese. This has nothing to do with you. You’re not the ‘cause’ of anything, you’re the cure - the tonic. Can’t you see that being able to see you and touch you is the only thing I have in this wretched life that brings me any true happiness?” Therese was crying now, silent tears running down her cheeks in waves. Carol didn’t recognize it at first in the low light, but when she did she rose to her feet and took the shorter woman into her arms.

Carol buried her face in Therese’s neck, draping her taller frame over her shoulder. She spoke softly, but determinedly. “I’m going to fix this for us, darling.” She peppered kisses along the brunettes jaw, a ticking warmth stirring Therese as lips danced their way to her ear. “I’m going to make it so we can focus on just this again - so I can take you out for a picnic in the middle of the week and twirl you around; dancing on the grass. I want to be able to show you that you’re all that matters once the dust from this storm has been swept away.”

Therese had her eyes screwed shut, trying to prevent her heart from bursting. She knew Carol had true intent behind those words. She knew she meant them, in that sense. But Carol was also a writer. And even her own voice couldn’t betray the uncertainty behind those phrases - belying those elegant, bewitching promises. Therese raised her head to meet Carol’s lips then, softly opening to her probing tongue. Everything felt heightened. Both women were silently thankful for this continued connection; both thinking they hadn’t lost, not yet.

“I love you, Carol;” Therese whispered, breathlessly, before claiming Carol’s mouth again - obscuring the awkwardness of knowing Carol wouldn’t reciprocate the sentiment. Therese just gave it to Carol freely, because it was true… because it was factual. And, because she wanted to say it. Therese knew that the strength of their bond was something that would never be broken by any outside force. If Carol and Therese bent until they snapped, it would be because of their own sabotage. It would be because one or both of them gave up. Nothing external would have the strength or depth to destroy anything this strong. Therese also had the nagging, distant thought that their connection would always be there. It would remain even if they fell away from each other - like a railroad track that remains in destitute land after all train traffic has ceased. “I want to go on that picnic, too,” Therese whispered, as she led Carol back to the couch.


	19. “Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes are important! 
> 
> \- WARNING : there are brief mentions and scenes of violence in this chapter. They are not overtly explicit (as is not my style) - but please be cautioned if this is a trigger for you. 
> 
> \- I guess that probably also can serve as an angst warning and/or apology - as I delve into a part in this story that is difficult to write, and sometimes difficult to read. I say that not as an apology for the writing itself; as I do think many passages from this chapter are absolutely central to the hearts of these women I've been trying to get to know. 
> 
> \- The quote used for this chapter's title is, as I'm sure many recognize, Virginia Woolf. 
> 
> \- timeline is again important in interpreting this chapter... but in terms of MY timeline - you may have noticed I don't exactly have one, in regards to updates. Anything I write is based on when I have ideas, and when those ideas become writeable. Those tricky muses never have been predictable. 
> 
> THANKS for sticking with me, and I am continually, IMMENSELY, appreciative to the people who stop by to share their thoughts and ideas via comments!

** Chapter 19: “Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy” **   
**_(~ Virginia Woolf)_**

**_Late November, 2016_ **

 

> _“Ideas are like seeds: they are abundant, and most of them never grow into anything.”_  
>  _~ Kevin Ashton_
> 
> _“Imagine everything you ever wanted shows up one day and calls itself your life. And then, just when you start to believe in it - gone. And suddenly it gets very hard to imagine a future.”_  
>  _~ Side Effects_

 

The late autumn was unseasonably warm in New York, and on this particular day, record high temperatures were being set all across the state. Carol hummed with contentment as she added flecks of golden sky around the perimeter of the canvas stretched before her. The windows in her office were open and a gentle breeze rustled the papers on her wall. She still had many pages of Therese’s taped work on her wall, but the sticky notes which had previously accompanied them had long since fallen gently to the floor, mimicking the pattern of the leaves outside the window, a coarse reminder of time passed.

The bizarre Indian summer elicited a giddiness in Carol; she was like a bloom coming out for one last sunbath before retreating below ground for the long, cold snow. Her life had settled into a sort of routine melancholy. Most of the early part of the previous year was a blur to her; looking back now it seemed so long ago. She had purposefully shut off her memories of the woman she became in those months after Therese left - after that fateful, blistery December night when she dropped a box onto Carol’s doorstep and then walked away forever.

It took Carol almost a year to find herself again. The force with which she detonated after Therese left had scattered pieces of herself far and wide, and it took time to find them and link them back together again. She still felt the aftershocks of the explosion, and she was still finding pieces of herself stubbornly clinging to Therese’s memory. She found pieces everywhere, in every dark corner of her mind.

There were some days when she sat in her office and she half expected to look up and see Therese sitting there on the couch, so vivid were her visions. She allowed herself to be swallowed by these fits of fancy, and she had consequently also taken to drinking during the day so she could daydream. Those phantoms of her subconscious were much more kind in the day; at night she was ravaged by nightmares of Therese being taken from her - violently, cruelly. She would dream of losing Therese down a deep crevice, the rope Carol is holding her by slowly cutting into her hand as Therese slips away, Carol finally cutting the rope loose herself so as not to fall- always a loud snap, always a cry.

Carol shook the images from her mind and reached into her apron for some small white pills, which she swallowed without water. She packed up her things to head for home, and whilst doing so she thought about what Therese was doing in that exact moment. This was another thing she had been admonished not to do, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. She reveled in allowing herself the thought much like a teenager sneaking to look at pornography.

She thought about how weird it seemed that people always claim they lose sight of their lovers’ faces as time wears on. They say the picture of the person becomes blurrier, and god forbid - some even say they forget what their lover looked like altogether. Carol had once heard this offered as a sort of solace, as if a blurred reminder was better than a sharp image drilling its way into your skull. But the imagery was lost on her; the entire concept was foreign to Carol. Therese’s face was as sharp in her mind as the day before, and the day before that. She could still trace the moles on that back with her tongue in the dark; could still see the slight curve in her nose and the variations in her ears. Carol should know all this well - she painted her every day.

In reality, it likely wasn’t the weather, nor the painting making Carol’s head light and her mood giddy. Carol had a plan. For years now, she had been a passive observer of her own life. She felt like an onlooker as she watched it go from an indescribable bounty to an inconceivable melancholy; trapped behind her own guilt and mistakes on either end. But now she had what she needed to free herself from Harge forever. It was a week ago that night that Harge had hit her. It was the first time, and it would be the last time. As she looked back on the barren landscape of her marriage, his punch to her cheek was like a beacon in the desert, a warning call. A hard line in the sand.

Carol immediately and discretely saw her family lawyer and had photographs taken of her injuries. In conjunction with the supporting testimony from Abby regarding the night Harge left Rindy alone while Carol was in Boston, the lawyer was confident Carol’s case for custody would be a slam dunk if she filed for divorce. He assured her that this would be the case regardless of Harge’s documentation of her affairs and, more importantly, of her psychiatric hospitalization. Fred was an old friend of Carol’s father. He wouldn’t lead her astray. This was finally her time. She had just yesterday filed the papers, and she hoped that Harge would be served by the end of the week.

~***~

Harge was becoming increasingly alcohol-dependent, from a purely physiologic perspective. He was, after all, a scientist - so he saw every scenario with a particularly cold, distanced stance. He didn’t see his drinking for what it had done to his wife, to his daughter. He only saw consequences in terms of how his liver might be handling it, or how dangerous it might be if he tried to quit on his own. He thought about what it had cost him in his work. He was moved to chills when he thought about the rate at which he was dangerously approaching the end of his scientific career. He had always seen the day where he ran out of ideas to test - theories to try; but that day had always seemed so far away, so incomprehensible.

His fury just seemed to grow, with no discernible outlet for his frustration, anger always boiling just at the surface. He had lost all but two of his post-doctoral fellows. Some left because Harge had to lay them off due to cost constraints. NYU had started to pull back some of his grant funding when his publication record dropped to nil. Most of the fellows had initially stayed on after the funding cut; offering to work pro bono because they believed in Harge and in the lab. Now he was down to two, and most would cite his violent rages as their reason for leaving for good. He became known for throwing glassware at his graduate students and screaming at the undergraduates. His colleagues were also distancing themselves quickly.

He felt he was left with a caged anger everywhere he turned, rage boiling red in his blood like a teapot about to squeal. He saw no happiness anywhere, even when he looked at his daughter. She used to bring him so much joy, but now when he looked at her, she only reminded him of her mother. As Rindy grew, he felt she looked more and more like Carol every day. In her face was the Carol he had lost long ago, the Carol he could no longer find, no longer see.

He had been so happy when Therese had left, hopeful even. But he realized now - almost two years later - she had never really left. He could still hear the lingering despair on Carol’s breath like a nagging song and he knocked his head against his desk at the thought of it; bile creeping up his raw throat like a spider.

~***~

Carol had not planned on Harge being home for many hours, she had grown as accustomed to his times of absence just as he to hers. They had fallen into an well-choreographed dance, each giving the other their alone time with a liquor bottle. Neither felt compelled to be worried or jealous; there was no occasion to feel suspicious of affairs on either side - neither had the energy, and neither even cared if the other did.

Carol had decided to take advantage of what was left of the evening to finish her painting, and she had set up her easel in the living room next to Rindy’s smaller one. The two of them painted in silence together, Carol occasionally glancing over and adjusting Rindy’s brushstrokes, always getting an annoyed look in return from the young girl. Carol’s latest painting featured Therese more prominently than anything she had painted recently. She usually chose to hide the girl in her work, to obscure the enormity of the presence she still held - on the canvas at least, if not yet in life.

Rindy was still for a moment, a rarity which broke Carol’s attention and drew her focus to her little girl’s inquisitive face. Rindy pointed at the girl in the center of the painting. “That’s Therese, isn’t it?”

Carol just chuckled. Rindy was more than simply perceptive. She had picked out the face in the painting after having not seen Therese for several years. When Therese left, Rindy was not supposed to correlate it with any such earthquake in her mother’s life. But Rindy was smart. She knew the morning after that day in December that her mother was sad because Therese was gone. She guessed in the scary months that followed that Therese was something very special, and so she paid extra careful attention any time her mother said the name. She was desperately trying to piece together the mystery of Carol’s downfall. Therese had made her mother happy, and her absence made her mother unrecognizably sad. She didn’t know any more implications than that, but that much she did know - and with all the certainty of youth.

Harge came busting into the doorway like a bull, knocking a small table in the foyer to the ground with the edge of his bag. Curses followed and echoed into the living room like a premonition. Rindy jumped with fear, startled but also immediately saddened for the loss of her quiet moment of reflection with her mother. Carol was already deep into her second bottle of wine, her reaction time slowed and fuzzy. She felt resigned and blunted, and not terribly affected by Harge’s intrusion.

Rindy’s eyes quickly darted to her mother’s easel and then widened with a sudden recognition and a new fear. She darted her small hand forward to try to cover the portion of the painting with Therese, feebly attempting to protect her mother’s secret - a secret she didn’t even fully understand. As she tried to slide a piece of cardboard in front of the offensive figure, her elbow glanced the side of Carol’s palette and sent bright yellow paint splashing to the floor - just as Harge entered the room.

Harge’s eyes were red and wide, fury initially resting solely on Rindy and her careless accident. Carol immediately leapt to action to clean the spill, not out of fear of Harge, but out of a pure desire to avoid conflict. Carol did a lot of things automatically to avoid interaction with Harge, in general. Harge noticed the teetering in Rindy’s demeanor - children being notoriously poor at keeping secrets, especially when caught in the act of doing so. Her eyes were flashing back and forth between her father and the painting, and Harge moved closer to squint at the easel under the light, while Carol knelt below him cleaning the floor.

The recognition of Therese’s face in Carol’s painting was like a tsunami wave hitting Harge right in the gut. Months of rage floated up under his diaphragm and he wanted to scream, but to his onlookers he appeared mute, and totally still. The force with which his forearm clipped Carol under her chin threw her backwards into Rindy’s easel.

~***~

In the days and months that followed, Carol’s brain would churn for any details of the time following those events. Her brain became a rolodex, constantly scanning for any piercing clarities. She still doesn’t remember anything after that moment her head hit the easel - and up until many, many hours later.

~***~

**_December, 2017_ **

  

> “I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.”  
>  ~ Vita Sackville-West

 

After the sobering phone call with Abby, Therese immediately felt detached, aimless. She walked around some of her favorite places on campus for a while, but they all felt cold and distant. She couldn’t bring herself to go to any of the other places she and Carol had spent time together. She soon found herself retreating back to her hotel room for a few moments of respite before her emotions would have to be thrust onto full display. Her nerves felt raw like hot, burned skin; bristling with a nauseating forbearance.

Therese woke with a start and found herself drenched with sweat, tangled in a very expensive hotel sheet, and fully clothed. She offered a quick, squinting glance to her watch - 5:45 PM. Abby would be here soon. She had decided to splurge on a hotel room and spa package for her night in New York; dangling a carrot out for herself for motivation to keep this one last promise - a promise she made to herself. She promised she would go to New York. She would see Carol. But then, and with immediacy, she would dig within whatever reserves she held deep in herself, and she would try to move on with her own life. She couldn’t let her newly added worry over Carol change any of that.

She had moved to D.C., but she hadn’t really moved. Her insides were sitting still; frozen in place; her heart a time capsule, dusty and forgotten. It was no wonder dreams of Carol followed her back here. Just being in the city reminded her of Carol. Talking to Gen, to Abby. Their voices lilted through Therese’s brain but all she could process was Carol. She could still smell her, still taste her. She felt an acid cringe on her tongue then, followed by a sharp head pain.

She grabbed a large bottle of sparkling water form the mini bar and quickly swallowed some pills from the bottom of her purse; fighting for vision against the pulse throbbing against her temples like battering rams. She sat unsteadily on the plush couch in her room and held her head in her hands; dropped her head to her knees. She hadn’t head a headache like this in over a year. Hopefully, she had caught it in time. As long as she took the pills when it started, the migraines were still painful, but short-lived.

She splashed some cold water on her face and steadied her gaze in the mirror. These three years had not been easy on her. Occasional flecks of short, stubborn gray hairs had cropped up around her temples, and she had to finally submit to having her hair colored to prevent looking more like a hipster librarian than a journalist. She wore her hair longer again, usually swept over her shoulder in a loose braid. With renewed focus and headache subsiding, Therese found her motivation again - the hours left in her mission were ticking down, albeit painfully slowly. She slid out of her blazer and trousers and took a quick, cold shower. She dressed in a simple but elegant white dress, conservative in its cut but form fitting to her new, thinner frame. She was pinning her hair up in a loose, messy bun when she heard a soft rap at the door.

Abby’s face hadn’t changed a bit. She still looked years younger than her age; her smile was still reassuring and cheery. Therese let her pass through the doorway and the smell of her perfume as she passed sent Therese’s mind into a tailspin of memories, images Carol flashing behind her eyes like pricks of her migraine returning. The intensity of the feelings she still harbored for Carol overwhelmed her acutely in that moment, and were bolstered by a new fear in the pit of her stomach, a nagging concern that had wormed its way into her brain since she had received that strange call from Gen months before.

Gen. Another flash and a pain behind her eyes caused Therese to teeter on her precarious heels. Abby grabbed her arm on her way past and gently helped lower Therese onto the couch. She sat gingerly down beside her. Therese just closed her eyes and rubbed her temples for a moment - a moment both women thought to be quite a long while.

Therese had no reserve left. She felt she was again on the edge of that emotional precipice she recalled so well - where her life seemed so empty and meaningless, like a vast white room. She couldn’t again become locked in that room of her mind. She couldn’t linger here in New York. She had something to do, and planned to get doing it, and then to get going. Her mind couldn’t prepare itself more fully than this; she had reached the coverage of her already delicate and limited emotional bandwidth.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze was fierce and assertive. She boldly met Abby’s gaze and held her chin up. “Tell me what happened to her, Abby.”


	20. Saints or Monsters

** Chapter 20: Saints or Monsters **

**_December, 2017_ **

  

> _“It is not the fear of moving on that scares me, it is the fear of never going back. They never told us just how much it would cost to choose in life. They never told us that even though you can move on from certain things, it may in turn cost you your heart. These decisions we face may turn us into either saints or monsters, but it has to be worth more than becoming nothing at all.”_  
>  _~ Mary Kate Teske_

 

Abby’s palms were sweaty and her knees were weak. She felt as near to collapsing as Therese must have felt; and now equally grateful to be resting on the plush couch in the hotel room. She took a brief moment to gaze around her as Therese excused herself and splashed her face with water in the bathroom. Therese must be doing quite well for herself in D.C., she thought. This hotel room was no joke.

During the walk to the hotel, Abby continued to obsess over how she was going to tell Therese about the accident. She knew her words mattered, she knew that she needed to do this with tact, but also with truth. She felt a weighty responsibility still ahead, but she also knew that getting Therese to NYC was no small feat in itself. Gen should be happy their little plan had made it this far. Abby was confident that once Carol and Therese saw each other, the onlookers’ part of the plan would become unnecessary and obsolete. They just need to see each other’s eyes.

“Would you like a drink?” Therese’s voice was low and unsteady as she emerged from the bathroom.

Abby was finally able to get a good look at her. Carol wasn’t the only one who had changed. “I think we could both use one,” Abby replied, after a silent moment. Abby couldn’t help but let her gaze trace Therese’s frame as the younger woman poured their drinks from the elaborate mini bar. She had chosen bourbon, of course. Abby wondered if it was for the memory or for the taste. She was still undecided, herself. “You look incredible, Therese.”

The young woman blushed as she sat the drinks on the coffee table awkwardly. Therese still wasn’t very adept at walking or performing simple tasks in high heels. She had only recently added them to her wardrobe. Therese sat down gingerly next to Abby, wiping her hands down her dress over her thighs; again trying to remove invisible lint and calm her nerves. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I could lie and tell you I had an elaborate diet and exercise plan.”

Abby grinned, the sips of bourbon loosening the ball in the pit of her stomach. “You didn’t have such a plan?”

Therese smiled back, those dimples sneaking into full view, deeper and more defined in her thinner face. Therese paused then, briefly - a flicker of darkness clouding her bright eyes and obliterating those dimples. “No. I think I lost weight because I was sad. That seems - overly simplified, I know. I know it sounds like a cliche. But I was really sad. I was really sad, for a really long time. I was really empty, for a really, extraordinarily long time.”

Abby let her silence speak for her understanding. Therese knew she need not elaborate when it came to heartbreak. Abby understood her better than anyone. “I can’t imagine the strength it must take just to be here, Therese.”

The younger girl just nodded, grasping for a stable demeanor. She didn’t need to be reminded of that fact. “Can you do me a favor, Abby?”

The older woman looked her directly in the eye. “I will absolutely try,” she said.

“I need you to just tell me straight. Is Carol ok? What happened that has changed her? I just need the brief… I just don’t think I can… I can’t bear a drawn out story now. I don’t know how much I can… bear.” A short, choked sob followed her last words.

Abby understood. She leaned forward and grasped both of Therese’s hands in her own. “Harge attacked Carol and then there was a car accident. Rindy was very badly injured.”

Therese’s eyes were wide as she started stammering. “When did this happen, what… is Rindy ok?”

Abby squeezed her hands reassuringly and scooted a bit closer to her on the couch. “She is now. She still can’t walk, but the doctors are - hopeful that she may. But there was a time when most of us didn’t think she was going to survive.”

Abby moved closer still, and put a reassuring arm around the younger woman’s shoulder. She held Therese for a moment while both women tried to choke back their tears. This was the first time Abby had to tell this story - to speak of these things out loud. Thoughts and images of Rindy and Carol were racing and flashing through Therese’s mind like a freight train. Why had no one told her? She should have been here. She should have been here to help; to be with Carol. To hold Carol, to - to take care of her. She kept trying to tell Dannie. She had just wanted to take care of her. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

Abby relayed the facts slowly, as Therese could take them in. First she told Therese about the first time Harge hit Carol. Therese was briefly stunned. The Carol she knew would have always drawn a line at violence. As desperate and misguided as she was in most matters involving her marriage, Therese couldn’t envision Carol sticking around if Harge had started beating her. Not the same Carol she had loved… did love. She stopped Abby. “If this is true, then Carol has indeed changed. Carol has shared a speaking stage with Gloria Steinem. Female university students who suffered from acts of domestic violence have been sheltered in her own home! Are you really telling me that Harge punched her in the face and she spent more than five goddamn minutes in his presence before showing him the door?”

Therese was standing now, and pacing. Her blood was boiling. This all seemed wrong. The contempt she felt for Harge was rising in her gut; aching to growl and claw its way out for revenge. Abby sighed and walked to the bar to refill both of their drinks. She handed one to Therese and gestured for her to sit back down. “This was less than two weeks before the accident, Therese. And trust me, I tried to convince her to leave that very moment. But she was so… excited. I know that’s not the right word for it… I’m not a writer like you two are. But she was happy that it had happened. She said it woke her up. And more than that, she said it gave her the ammunition she needed to enter into a custody battle.” Abby looked down now. She swirled her bourbon in her glass, a gesture Therese recognized to be much like one of Carol’s nervous habits. “I think she had been waiting for two years for him to hit her. I really do.”

Therese sat down and faced Abby, her glare now penetrating and questioning; her eyes clear. “So what happened - why didn’t she leave?”

Abby was bereft. “Those two weeks, they haunt Carol. They haunt me. When I suggested she and Rindy come live with us immediately, she quoted my own platitudes about Harge. She reminded me how I had once tried to reassure her that he was a good father; how I had begged her to allow herself to be happy with you, to allow herself to live her own life. I had done that - I did say all those things and she never listened. Now she was listening. She was making moves to get away from him for good.” Abby shook her head then, as if trying to dismantle a ghost.

“Harge was served papers for divorce. It was a Friday. When he came home, he found his wife and daughter painting together in the living room. He attacked Carol and she was knocked unconscious.” Therese held a hand to her face as the story unfolded. She could do nothing but sit in silence until Abby could get it all out. “Rindy was hysterical. Harge was drunk. He tried to calm her down but she was inconsolable. He put her in the car and drove away. The car was hit on the passenger side, on Rindy’s side. They were both taken to the hospital but Harge was released the next day.” Abby took a deep breath, steadying her voice as she continued. “I got a call almost 3 hours after they arrived at the hospital. I was listed as one of Rindy’s emergency contacts, and they couldn’t reach Carol. When I couldn’t reach her either I rushed to meet an ambulance at the apartment and found her lying there. She had lost a lot of blood and was in and out of consciousness.”

Abby’s tears were falling freely now. She hadn’t anticipated the effect that telling this story would have on her. She could still see Carol’s apartment in her mind; blood coating her blonde hair and spreading out over Rindy’s painting. She often let her mind wander - what would have happened if there wasn’t an car accident? Carol may never have been found until it was too late. Guilt from the mere thought had often sent Abby into nervous fits.

Therese’s mind was reeling. There had been no one here to warn Carol; to protect her and Rindy. Therese knew all about men like Harge. She knew that once the cork was popped the violent surge would likely never abate. He was a ticking time bomb. She should have been here to stand between him and the woman she loved. She was disgusted at the thought of her own selfishness. All the self-affirmations she had made in the past hours suddenly seemed ridiculous. All this time she thought she had been suffering alone. For three years she had desperately chased her own tail; trying anything to drown out the sound of her own heart. She should have just come back. Why hadn’t she come back? She knew in that moment that she wasn’t done owning this responsibility.

Abby was compelled to finish, she had to get the whole story out. “Rindy was in the hospital for fifteen weeks. She was comatose for three.” Therese could guess exactly what came next. She didn’t need to hear the words. Her mind could already see Carol’s crouched form at her daughter’s side; could envision Carol’s thinning body curled against Rindy’s on the hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and machines. The pain these images ushered to the surface of Therese nearly ripped a scream from her throat. She stopped Abby then, she couldn’t continue. Her headache was pricking it’s way back up her spine from the base of her neck. She held her hand out to halt Abby as if she was stopping traffic, and teetered a bit before again finding her seat next to Abby on the couch.

“Why didn’t you call me, Abby?” Therese’s voice was stable, focused.

Abby found her gaze again and Therese noted the tears there. Abby’s brow was knit it a tight furrow, and Therese suddenly thought that she looked her age now, for the very first time. “Because she made me promise that I wouldn’t.” The next few seconds that ticked by seemed like minutes, the minutes like hours. Therese closed her eyes, a sudden moment of clarity washing over her like a refreshing wave. There it was. Two years later, miles away, without her knowledge, and in the middle of a desperate crisis - Carol Aird had yet again shut her out. She felt the same icy wave of wind as doors closed in her face. She was still staring at Carol from behind glass.

Abby felt she was losing her - Therese had been silent for some time, her eyes remained closed tight. Everything had been laid bare. Gen had warned Abby against telling Therese the truth. She had thought it better to let Carol divulge it if she wanted to. Gen may have been closer to Carol than Abby was over the past year, but Abby still knew what was best here. She knew it without any sense of hesitation. The connection that Therese and Carol had shared was displayed not only in their brief time together, but also in the way they both came apart without the other.

If that track was still there, if Therese still felt those inclinations - it would all have been worth it. Abby wouldn’t regret the rehashing of the story that brought her so much pain. She decided to find out. “Do you still love her, Therese?”

Green eyes snapped open at the intrusive question. “How dare you even ask me that?” Therese stood up and walked over to perch on the window seat. She cracked it open to let in a brief stream of cold December air. She lit a cigarette and laughed a little to herself. She laughed at the position she was in. She laughed because her darker self had predicted she would be here. Feeling this. Loving her… loving her still.“There are still days when I’m just a giant human ball of want. I want, and I want, and I want. I wanted her before. I wanted her when she tried to push me away. I wanted her when she abandoned me every night; when she couldn’t speak her love to me in words. Then all of this happened - and Abby, damn it… I’d be lying if I said I don’t want her now. I’ll want her forever.”

It was now Abby’s turn to sigh. She had been right. “Carol stays in your blood, stays on your skin like a tattoo.” Therese’s head snapped up, recognition reflected in her darkened eyes. “I don’t pretend to understand the depth of your connection with Carol, Therese.” Abby’s words were even, sincere. “I just know a fraction of it - but that fraction was enough to hope that you would still want to come.”

Therese glanced at the clock. It was time to go. “I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see her, how I’ll react. I don’t know what I’ll do nor what I want to do. Maybe I’ll puke, like she did when she saw me at Gen’s show.” She lapsed into silence, both were reminiscing about the past and simultaneously worrying about the future. Therese continued, quieter: “I am just going to have to see her. And then… I don’t know, maybe an epiphany will come. Maybe I’ll just know what to say, what to do. I can’t promise I’m going to fall into her arms with wanton abandon again, Abby. Before I heard any of this, I had planned for this night to be a gesture of closure to myself. I owe it to myself to move on from this, Abby.”

Abby stood and started gathering her coat and purse. “I don’t have any expectations of you, darling girl. I just needed for you to know the truth. Rather - I felt that you needed to know it. And you deserve to know all of it.” She removed an envelope from her purse and handed it to Therese. It was blank on the outside. Therese shuffled to open it quickly - hoping for words written by Carol’s hand - sentiments left unspoken, sentiments she had needed to hear.

Therese was confused at first as she struggled to interpret the contents of the envelope. They were train tickets - one way, from New York to D.C. One was in Carol’s name and one in Rindy’s. “I don’t understand,” Therese stammered.

“Look at the date,” Abby meekly suggested.

“December 3, 2016. So you wanted me to know that she planned to visit me a year ago, but never did? Sounds about right.”

"No, Therese." Abby's tone was more stern now, more solemn. “That ticket was for three days after the accident. It was part of her plan for after Harge was served divorce papers.” Recognition struck her like lightning and Therese had to sit down again. “Therese, she was trying... she was coming back to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have any particular notes to preface of this chapter, I just wanted to get to it! But I would be crazy not to thank all those who have continued to read this story, and especially to those who have commented with their thoughts, ideas and frustrations. There was a lot of detail revealed here about some of the time these two ladies spent apart. I can't wait to hear what you think!


	21. If you’re still feeling dead, join me?

** Chapter 21: If you’re still feeling dead, join me? **

**_February, 2017_ **

 

> _“If you’re still feeling dead, join me? I feel so dead that it is a wonder I am still breathing. I cannot stand much more of myself; or of my house. I want to scream, do murder, flee.”_  
>  _~ Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to Leonard Bernstein_
> 
> _“I couldn’t have thought of her more. Even vacancy was crowded with her”_  
>  _~The End of the Affair, Graham Greene_

 

Carol glanced down at her phone, the bright light from the screen illuminating the small hospital room. A picture of her daughter when she was a healthy, beautiful child shone back at her as she squinted to see the time. It was 1:15 am, February 15th. She rubbed her eyes with the rough fabric of the hospital blanket and glanced towards her daughter’s bedside. Rindy looked so small lying there - motionless. She had begun to wake up, she was able to wiggle her fingers and had even tried to open her eyes - Carol was sure of it. That was a couple of days ago, though. Rindy’s current motionless state brought back memories of the past month. Memories of countless doctors offering guarded condolences flooded Carol’s mind and she shook her head to free them. Rindy was getting better. It was just happening excruciatingly slowly.

She took a large gulp from the white styrofoam cup of coffee on the small plastic table next to Rindy’s bed. She gagged a little at the taste. Hospital coffee was even worse than hospital food. A sudden recognition struck her as she stared blankly at Rindy’s photo on her phone. Last night had been Valentine’s evening. She hadn’t even thought about it. Suddenly, memories of another kind flooded her mind.

The week after the accident was still a blur to Carol. Abby told her she had required sedative medications. The head injury, combined with the news of her daughter’s life -threatening injuries, had knocked Carol completely out of line with reality. For several weeks she had wandered around the hospital, in and out of Rindy’s room, with zero recollection of the events that were taking place. The first thing she remembers is hearing a doctor tell her that it was unlikely that Rindy would survive.

But her little snowflake had surprised everyone. She had woken up. She had opened her eyes and she had squeezed Carol’s hand. That was almost two weeks ago. Carol had never lost hope. And now her sweet, precious girl was fighting to come back to her. Carol spent nearly every night in the narrow reclining plastic chair at Rindy’s bedside. Despite Abby’s urging, she rarely slept at home. She finally started going home to shower and change her clothes, but she was always back at Rindy’s bedside by nightfall.

Carol usually slept through the night and would wake with a pain in her neck and cramps in her legs from sleeping in that god-awful chair. But something had pulled her awake in the middle of the night this time - was she dreaming? She never dreamed these days. She thought maybe it was the sedatives, but she also thought it may be because her brain couldn’t tolerate her usual dreams of Therese on top of her current reality. It would be too much pain for her psyche to bear. Carol felt sure her brain had shut down dreaming as a mode of self-preservation.

In the weeks before the accident, Carol had dreamed of Therese every night. And as she gathered her wits, made plans, bought train tickets to D.C - Carol had started to see the fog recede from her visions of the future. She had started to allow herself to entertain the idea of happiness. Harge had swept that all away with one jerk of his arm against Carol’s jaw; with one decision to get behind the wheel after drinking; taking their daughter with him.

Tonight; however, Carol could only remember that first Valentine’s night after she met Therese. It was six long years ago. She remembered the fear she had felt in the pit of her stomach when she read the threatening letter from Harge and saw the photos of her and Therese locked in a passionate embrace. She felt a pang of pain as she thought about how she desperately wished she had kept those photos. If she had kept them, at least she would have then have something to touch, something to remember. She thought of Therese on the other side of that glass door; her fear and pain leaking through like a noxious gas. She thought about what might have been different had she not turned Therese away that fateful night. What if she would have had the guts to fight for her love then? What if she would have had the guts to tell Therese how she felt from the beginning?

Carol was lost in her memories; her vision blurring as she watched the machines around Rindy’s bed beep and flash in vibrantly colored lights. She had planned to go to Therese in D.C. She had planned a grand gesture to apologize for her hesitancy. She planned to see her, to embrace her, to tell her that she loved her. “I love you, I love you, I love you;” she whispered out loud into the quiet vacuum of the hospital room. Tears fell from her cheeks as she swallowed the weight of the words she had left unspoken. She couldn’t go to D.C. now. She was half a person. She was heavily medicated. Only some of that medication was prescribed by a physician - most of it was found at the bottom of countless bottles of bourbon.

In a moment of complete whimsy, she stood and shook out her legs. She knew where she was headed. She needed to feel something. She needed to hear noises that weren’t beeps or intercoms echoing through hospital walls. She walked towards Rindy’s bedside and kneeled beside her. She pressed her lips to Rindy’s forehead, and her tears fell freely onto the child’s chest. “I’ll be back soon, snowflake,” she said.

~***~

Genevieve Cantrell usually boycotted Valentine’s Day. It was a day that meant no more than any other day. Gen had no regular lovers since she had left Therese. She couldn’t bear to forge connection, to give any part of herself away. She still thought of Therese often. She could still see those dimples when she closed her eyes; could still feel the softness of Therese’s skin yielding beneath her fingernails.

Gen gazed down at the figure across from her, which was bathed in moonlight. Sarah was her name- or was it Chloe? She chuckled a bit to herself. Whoever it was, her ass was exquisite; bared against the moonlight - reflecting against the wall of windows in her studio loft. This was how she was supposed to live. She couldn’t bear her soul to anyone anymore. She could’t risk her heart. Therese had broken her in ways she couldn’t have anticipated. She felt like bouy adrift on a vast ocean. Her painting was loose, lifeless. she needed to get back on track, to move on. A string of women like Sarah/Chloe was the way she decided to try that.

She sighed; swinging her legs off the edge of the high bed. She sauntered over to her mini-bar, her naked breasts reflecting the full moon against the crystal clear windows. She poured herself a drink, and she sipped her bourbon as she thought about Therese. This had become a ritual for her. She didn’t know how to break the cycle. As it turns out, fate broke it for her. She was startled by a stern but persistent knocking at the studio door on the floor below the loft. Her head was jerked to attention, her gaze snapping first to the clock to register the time, and then to the sleeping form in her bed. Her lover hadn’t stirred; she was sleeping the sleep of someone drunk - and well-fucked.

For a moment, Gen entertained the thought that it might be Therese on the other side of the door. She knew it wasn’t, but she entertained the thought nonetheless. Therese had been gone for over two years now - gone without a word. She had left Carol and she probably didn’t even know what had happened to Carol since she had gone. The person at her door was probably a lost stranger.

Gen shrugged a cream-colored silk robe over her shoulders, leaving the front open - her breasts exposed and nipples protruding proudly. When she opened the door and saw Carol standing before her, she shivered with shock and sadness. Carol was gaunt, thin, almost cachectic - but her eyes were unchanged - a brilliant piercing blue staring back from the other side of the threshold.

“Hello, Genevieve.” Carol’s voice was almost an octave lower than normal, a dark haze emanating from her like a swirling bad omen. Gen just stared at her, then stepped back to allow Carol to enter the studio. Carol’s gaze drifted up towards the loft, a silent question.

Gen pulled Carol into an embrace, the tenderness of the gesture surprising them both. “Let me get rid of ….Sarah,” Gen whispered.

Carol dropped her head in shame. “I”m so sorry, Gen. I - I didn't’ know what I was doing, where I was going. Somehow I ended up here. Please - don’t make her leave. I’ll go. This was a mistake.”

Gen caught Carol off guard by rising on her tiptoes and pressing their lips together forcefully. Carol was knocked back a few inches at first, but then she held her own; her body pursuing Gen’s warmth like heat-seeking missile. Gen suddenly pulled away and grabbed Carol by the hand. She walked up the stairs slowly and when she reached the top of the loft she stood there, silent and still for a moment - contemplating the position she was in.

“Sarah.” Gen spoke the name clearly, with no hesitation. She had finally remembered. Chloe had been last week. The gorgeous brunette occupying Gen’s bed stirred upon hearing her name, long lashes fluttering open to reveal gorgeous deep brown eyes. “I need for you to find your clothes, and then I need for you to leave.” The statement hurt Carol to be near it, and Carol could only imagine what poor Sarah must have been thinking.

Sarah just grinned at Gen and acknowledged Carol’s presence with a flick of her head. “I don’t blame you, Gen. I’d kick me out for her, too.” The lanky brunette rose from the bed and Carol gasped with surprise. She was breathtaking - muscular and toned, but feminine. Sarah was taller than Carol, taller than most women, and she bent down and placed a tender kiss to Gen’s temple as she grabbed her skirt and bra and shuffled down the stairs.

Carol and Gen stood and watched each other in silence, with only the moonlight illuminating their faces. Sarah shut the door to the studio quietly, and the silence that followed in the wake made Carol shiver with fear and a tinge of regret. What was she doing here?

Gen was the first to speak, which was rare. Gen was a woman of few words, but those words always mattered. “Carol, I heard about what happened to Rindy - I’m so thrilled to hear she’s ok. I’m so sorry…”

Carol cut her off this time, the taller blonde woman remembering her dominance and pressing a full palm to Gen’s mouth, the force of Carol’s hand backing Gen against the wall of windows. Gen allowed herself a moment to feel Carol’s tongue against her own, and she sighed at the welcome intrusion. The two women melted into each other, their bodies remembering the sacred dance. Carol thrust a thigh in between Gen’s legs and the shorter woman sighed as she allowed herself to grind against it, the warmth and wetness seeping through the folds of her robe to coat Carol’s jeans in want.

Visions flashed across Carol’s mind, Therese at the glass door - Therese in Boston as Carol left her behind. Carol closed her eyes and moaned into Gen’s mouth, the bourbon she had from her flask on the taxi ride over starting to settle into her lungs and warm her and release her from her inhibitions. Gen tried to keep herself in the present, eyes wide open and staring at the blonde goddess who had showed up at her doorstep once again. Carol was here. Her Carol - the woman who had ruined Gen for any other lover.

Fear of looking foolish won over, and Gen pulled away from Carol’s mouth, their parting lips creating a suction and a pop as they separated. Carol’s eyes were dark and clouded, more dark grey than blue. Carol spoke first this time, while running an index finger over Gen’s lips in desperation. “I need you, Gen. Please. Please - fuck me. Take me.” The sultry voice awakened a monster inside of Gen, a long buried desire brimming and bubbling to the surface unbidden. Gen groaned out loud. Releasing a soft moan, she pressed her cheek to Carol’s chest; her shorter frame nuzzling to Carol’s like a puzzle piece.

It took every ounce of strength that Gen had to move back even a single inch, but she did. She pulled her face away from Carol’s breast and forced herself to meet her gaze. “I can’t do this, Carol. Not when I know you’ll be thinking of her the whole time.”

Carol bowed her head, recognition hitting her like a bucket of cold ice, turning her desire to shame. When she raised her eyes to meet Gen’s once more, they was cold, dead… grey. The warmth had been sucked away, leaving only a vacuum. Gen shivered. “You’re right,” Carol said. “But don’t fucking kid yourself.” She stopped then, punctuating her silence with a string of wet kisses strategically placed along Gen’s jawline. Carol’s fingers found Gen’s slick wet folds and she entered her without preamble - quick powerful thrusts forcing Gen up against the window, their bodies creating a fog of moisture against the glass. “Don’t kid yourself,” Carol repeated. “Because I know you’re thinking about her too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take this moment to thank a friend of mine who has helped me tremendously in the writing of this story. She has listened to me ramble on and on about my ideas, even when I'm sure she was tired of hearing about them. She has never once complained. She has given me amazing ideas, and she is the only person I trust to tell me the truth about my writing. She encourages me, even when I have no idea what the ever loving fuck I am doing. So - thanks, buddy ;) 
> 
> To my readers - thanks for sticking with me! I have a timeline. I have a plan. Trust it. ;)


	22. One Foot on the Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank everyone for the continued support for this story! I really had no idea what the reception would be, as I've never done anything in this format before - but I'm really glad I did. I cannot tell you how much each and every comment means to me. I am always eager to hear your thoughts, even the angsty ones!

** Chapter 22: One Foot on the Ground **

**_Summer, 2014_ **

 

> _“I had come into this affair with my eyes open, knowing that one day this must end, and yet, when the sense of insecurity, the logical belief in the hopeless future descended like melancholia, I would badger her and badger her, as though I wanted to bring the future in now at the door, an unwanted guest”_  
>  _~Graham Greene, “The End of the Affair”_
> 
> _“I never loved nobody fully_  
>  _Always one foot on the ground_  
>  _And by protecting my heart truly_  
>  _I got lost in the sounds_  
>  _I hear in my mind - all these voices_  
>  _I hear in my mind - all of these words_  
>  _I hear in my mind - all this music_  
>  _And it breaks my heart”_  
>  _~Regina Spektor “Fidelity”_
> 
>  

It was an unseasonably warm summer in the city. Therese hadn’t allowed Carol to move back to the hotel. She wanted to be able to see Carol as much as possible; she didn’t want to waste the considerable amount of time she spent waiting for Carol in a hotel room, bored out of her skull. Carol had reluctantly agreed, despite her inherent distaste for the meager studio apartment.

The lack of windows didn’t allow for much air to circulate through the small space, and even in the morning hours the air was stifling. Therese was stirred awake by a cat paw to the face, and she groggily reached over to pet him without realizing Carol was sleeping beside her. When she saw the blonde beauty in the morning sunlight, she audibly gasped. “Look, kitty. Carol’s still here,” she whispered.

A rogue string of blonde hair was plastered against Carol’s forehead with sweat, and tiny beads of moisture were visible on her upper lip. Therese didn’t want to wake her, but the fact that she was still here worried Therese - it was against the custom to wake up with Carol by her side. She allowed herself a moment to revel in the older woman’s beauty. She was so unbelievably lucky. Therese shook her head, forcing the thought deeper into her subconscious. Whatever she had to deal with, she couldn’t forget how lucky she was that this woman shared her bed, however brief these nights may be.

Therese wriggled down the bed until her face was level with Carol’s and inhaled her scent. Carol still smelled of sex, and thoughts of last night’s escapades made her smile. Therese darted out her tongue and gently lapped the sweat from Carol’s upper lip, and bright blue eyes snapped open, catching her in the act. “I’m sorry to wake you but, are you still supposed to be here?”

Carol’s eyes widened for a moment until she made sense of her surroundings. “Are you kicking me out?,” she asked; the question accompanied by a playful slap to Therese’s behind.

The younger woman smiled as she slid out of bed and down the loft ladder. “I’ll make breakfast,” she said. “Get your cute ass down here and keep me company.”

Therese had been up late, working on one of her assignments for her journalism class. She had kept it a secret from Carol, she was still afraid of her reaction. Carol always took things way too seriously. If she knew Therese was taking a class she would think it was only moments until she was quitting school to become the next Nightly News anchor. She didn’t bother to put any of her materials away last night - Carol was always gone long before she woke up. Sometimes Carol would leave when Therese was still awake, hurried kisses exchanged in the blackest hours of the night.

Luckily, Carol decided to stay naked. She grabbed a piece of bacon from behind Therese’s back and sat down at the desk with a sigh. Therese suddenly remembered what she had been working on and froze for a moment. She couldn’t go clear off the desk now. Maybe Carol wouldn’t recognize it. She chuckled to herself. Of course Carol would notice it. Carol noticed everything. She hurried to finish the eggs. “Are you working on another non-fiction piece, darling?”

Therese hung her head at the question. Damn that inquisitive woman, damn her! “I”m uh, I”m taking this class with Dannie, it’s for that.”

Of course the Professor in Carol wouldn’t let that be the end of it. “What kind of class?”

“It’s uh, Journalism, one of the Journalism construct courses.” Carol made an audible tsk noise and started sauntering back towards Therese. The younger woman had finished making their breakfast and set two heaping plates down on the small table.

Carol took another bite of bacon as she sat down, content to simply stare at Therese until she cracked. Luckily, the younger woman was becoming hip to her ways, and tried to change the subject. “It’s really fucking sweltering in here. Maybe we should go back to the hotel, just for a day or two.”

Carol laughed, her characteristic deep and hearty chuckle. “Leave it to you, darling, to attempt to change the subject using something as cliche as the weather. At least you threw in the prospect of a hotel bed, though. You get points for that.”

Therese set down her fork and sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want for it to become a thing, Carol.”

The blonde woman was slightly taken aback by the forcefulness of Therese’s words. She had just been teasing, but the younger woman was taking this seriously, which made her want to take it more seriously in turn. “Look, I’m not here to judge you, Therese. But don’t you have plenty of actual work to do, before you start taking up hobbies?” There it was. She had said she wasn’t judging, but that’s exactly what she was doing when she called it a hobby. Therese really didn’t want to ruin their rare morning together talking about this.

“I enjoy it. And don’t you think it’s important, telling people’s stories?” Therese couldn’t help herself. She had to fight for her opinion, even if it ruined their morning.

“Of course it’s important,” Carol quipped, between bites of egg and toast. “But they have plenty of people who aren’t talented fiction writers to do said storytelling.”

Therese finished the last of her bacon and wiped her mouth on her napkin. This wasn’t the time she would have chosen to have this discussion, but here they were. “Carol, I’ve known for a long time that I’m not going to be the writer you thought I’d be. I had some really great ideas, but I strung them out for three years. I’m not you, I don’t have the longevity. I know you’re going to argue with me, but that’s how I feel. And I have to pay the bills for this shitty apartment that you hate.”

The look on Carol’s face was one Therese couldn’t place, and she thought she knew Carol very well. The older blonde was squinting, her brow contorted as if she were in pain. “Is that really what you think, darling?” Therese just nodded. Carol put her napkin on the table and moved towards the brunette. Therese instinctively moved her chair back from the table as Carol approached her. Therese thought she was going to kneel next to her, to chastise her - but Carol surprised her by swinging a long leg across her body to straddle her lap. “Well then,” Carol sighed, her breath hot against Therese’s neck as she leaned into her, “I guess I need to do a much better job of encouraging you, then.” Her last words melted seamlessly into her kisses, her tongue warm on Therese’s already hot neck.

Therese couldn’t let Carol get the upper hand here, couldn’t let her dismiss this as a whim. She wanted to argue, to tell Carol that it wasn’t a failure on her part if Therese chose a career in Journalism. But all the things she wanted to say were swallowed by Carol’s tongue as it swept through her mouth like a tornado. Therese grabbed both of Carol’s legs behind the knees and placed them high on the chair back behind her, opening Carol to her like a flower.

Carol continued her assault on Therese’s neck, her fingers came up to the brunette’s hair, looking for a place to anchor. Therese brought her hand down between then and nestled them in Carol’s wet folds. “The tables are turned,” Carol sighed, breathlessly. “I think you’ve done a remarkable job of encouraging _me_.”

Therese buried her tongue in Carol’s open mouth, cutting off her commentary as her fingers slid languidly across Carol’s hardened clit. “Do you want me inside you?,” Therese asked this cautiously, noting that Carol was in a precarious position and was usually opposed to being so vulnerable.

Carol could barely breathe, and her legs were sliding higher on the chair; Therese laid her back to rest her shoulders on the table behind them. Therese knew that Carol would eventually have to have at least one foot on the ground before she climaxed. It was a theory that Therese had tested every way she knew how. It was now a fact backed by a considerable amount of trial data. “Please, Angel,” Carol groaned. Therese entered her with two fingers and brought her other hand to cradle Carol’s neck. Carol’s legs were still straddling Therese in the chair and Therese tried to keep them elevated, to keep Carol open to her.

Therese dipped her head and took a hardened nipple into her mouth as she increased the speed of her hand. Carol moaned, a deep throaty moan that easily penetrated the thin walls of the apartment. Carol’s eyes were closed tight and her head flung back, strong thighs quivering around Therese. The younger woman kept her eyes wide open, wanting to remember everything about this Carol. This was a Carol she rarely got to see - open, wanting. She suddenly felt empowered. She wanted Carol to beg.

She slowed the movements of her hand and took her mouth away from Carol’s nipple with a pop. She carefully made sure the heel of her hand stayed just off Carol’s straining clit, and she started peppering light, open mouthed kisses across Carol’s chest - avoiding her breasts altogether. In a haze Carol’s eyes finally opened and Therese was startled by how dark they were, her pupils piercing like daggers. “Don’t stop, baby - please.” Carol’s voice was an entirely different pitch, an octave higher than her usual seductive tone.

“What do you want, Carol?” Therese now had the dominant lower voice, the question hummed out along Carol’s collarbone, causing the older woman to quiver at the tickle.

“Back….back inside, please.” Carol’s breathing was more ragged, her hips straining towards Therese’s abdomen, straining for contact of any kind.

“Ok, Carol - but you have to promise me something.” Therese teased her then, a long middle finger tracing her folds delicately, bringing moisture from her center to circle her clit with sticky want.

Carol cried out when her clit was touched directly and then released a strangulated groan. “I promise, I won’t talk to you about Journalism again.” She was rewarded with two fingers entering her again, and a dimpled smile on Therese’s cheeks.

Carol started to build again, and Therese took a nipple back into her mouth. “At least - not today,” Carol added hastily, drawing a groan from the younger woman and earning her a bite on an already swollen nipple.

Therese looked up at her sheepishly, never ceasing her hand movements, starting to feel Carol tighten around her fingers. “I knew that was a lost cause,” she said breathlessly, continuing to fuck the older woman with an athleticism she had carefully crafted for just this task. “No. I want you to promise me you’ll try to really let go this time, Carol.”

Carol screamed as Therese brought her other hand between them and slowly started rolling Carol’s clit between her fingers. “I will, I’m so close, darling - please.” Therese smiled as she felt Carol’s walls start to quiver and tighten, her fingers locked in a vice grip of the softest silk. Despite the increased resistance she sped up the pace of her hands, working Carol relentlessly towards the edge.

Therese thought she had succeeded this time. Carol’s feet were dangling precariously behind her back and her hips were quivering in an uncharacteristically messy pattern. Therese felt Carol pass the point of no return and she pressed into her harder. She leaned her head to Carol’s chest to listen to her heartbeat. But, as she pulled Carol towards the edge, she could feel strong legs start to push her backwards. “Please don’t stop, Therese, I’m going to come.” Carol’s last words were punctuated with her strength and Therese felt Carol’s left leg slip down around her to rest on the floor, just as Carol grabbed Therese’s hand and let out a low moan with her release.

Carol took several steadying breaths before she swung her other leg off Therese’s lap and collapsed to the floor. Therese was still breathing hard, her wrist stinging from the force of her thrusts at an odd angle. They spent a few minutes in silence, catching their breath in the suffocating heat. Therese was still panting when she finally gathered the courage to speak. “You didn’t let go, Carol.”

The older woman winced as she nodded and took a healthy sip of water before lighting a cigarette. “Yeah, well. You took up Journalism. I guess we’re both disappointed today.”

~***~

**_Summer, 2017_ **

Gen was staring at Carol Aird in her bed. She still wasn’t used to it. She didn’t know if she wanted to get used to it. This was the third time in several months that Carol had shown up on her doorstep. They hadn’t really spoken much. Gen sensed that Carol needed an outlet for her frustrations and her pain, and - for the time being - Gen was happy to provide that. But she couldn’t let Carol back into her life - that was dangerous territory. And as she unconsciously moved a hand to sweep the hair from Carol’s brow, she realized she had already started treading toward that territory. She pulled her hand away like she had been burned.

Hours later, Carol found Gen in the studio. Gen was just staring at a blank canvas, her back turned to the loft. Carol placed a hand on her shoulder gently, so as not to startle her. When Gen turned to face her, Carol noticed tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how to help you, Carol. But I can’t do this. Not like this. I’m not a machine you can just use and walk out. You want my body, you have to talk to me.”

Carol closed her eyes briefly. Gen knew she was pondering whether or not the sex was even worth opening up like this. She knew Carol had been a closed book for a long time - not even the almighty Abby could pierce through these days. “I’m sorry, you’re right. You don’t deserve this. I thought you would think it was fun - I thought.. I’m sorry, Genevieve.”

Gen stood to face Carol, her shorter frame doing nothing to diminish her stature. “It is fun, Carol. It’s… too much fun, I mean Jesus - I missed fucking you.” Carol chuckled, and Gen breathed a sigh of relief that the tension was easing in the room. The two of them sat comfortably on the floor and Carol took Gen’s hands into her lap.

“What do you want to know, gorgeous?” Carol’s voice was steady again. She was ready to face this.

Gen was taken aback, she hadn’t expected Carol to respond this way. She was honestly pretty sure Carol would walk out when she confronted her. Now she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say. “You and Therese…” Carol dropped Gen’s hands upon hearing the name, but Gen picked them back up again and held them even tighter as she continued. “It’s indelible in my mind that you two would be together. I don’t understand it Carol. What happened?”

Carol sighed and was silent for a long time. She didn’t know what to tell Gen, she didn’t know how honest to be. But in the end, she thought, Gen deserves honesty. She deserves to know why Carol is hiding in her studio and fucking her to avoid her pain. “I never loved anyone like I loved Therese,” she started, and no sooner were the first words out than the tears started to fall. “I loved her and I was so afraid of losing her that I tried to keep myself from falling into her, headlong. And in doing so I forgot that you can’t just take and take and take and never give. I drained her dry. I never told her how I felt. And then I lost her. And I deserved to.” Gen scooted back a few feet and gestured for Carol to lie in her lap. She traced Carol’s brow line as the older woman continued. “I was so afraid of losing my family that I didn’t realize that she _was_ my family. She would have been there for me - with Rindy - she would’ve taken care of me.” Carol was sobbing now and Gen moved the edge of her robe up to the corner of Carol’s eyes, dabbing her tears. “I really fucked it up, Gen,” she finished, simply.

“Yeah,” Gen sighed. “Yeah you did.”


	23. Monsters Courting Insanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, whhhaaat? This is shorter than is my norm, but what I have here does not fit with what I have planned for chapter 24... and albeit short- it's weighty. So - bonus surprise!

** Chapter 23: Monsters Courting Insanity  **

**_Spring, 2017: New York City_ **

Rindy Aird was eleven years old, and if any one characteristic pre-teen emotion had survived her trauma, it was her stubbornness. She was working with her therapist at a set of parallel bars which had been set up in their home, and Carol was in her usual seat on the floor mat near her side. After significant injury to her spine, Rindy had re-learned to support most of her body with her arms, and had developed considerable upper body strength. Her legs were still too weak to support much weight, let alone take steps. Rindy was more than frustrated. She was pissed. Carol’s heart broke as she watched her little girl struggle against her own body; sweat dripping from her delicate brow. 

Rindy made a haphazard swing with her leg and it landed awkwardly, bucking and sending her tumbling to the mat below. Carol immediately leaned in towards her, but her therapist, Mike, had already caught her and broken her fall. Rindy pushed Mike away with her considerable arm strength, and then she screamed. She screamed a brilliant, vibrant scream. “Shit! fuck!,” she exclaimed, the words sounding foreign even to her own innocent ears. Carol and Mike glanced at each other with widened eyes, but said nothing. 

Mike placed a strong hand on Rindy’s shoulder. “You wanna take some of that anger out on the bars this time?” Rindy looked up at him with a fierce gaze in her wet blue eyes, and she nodded. Carol wasn’t just proud of her daughter in that moment. She admired her. Mike anchored his muscular arm under the young girl’s armpit and effortlessly lifted her back to standing position at the bar. 

Carol had to turn away, a fist to her mouth to stifle her cries, when Rindy fell yet again. 

~***~

Carol’s canvases came alive at night. She had moved several large scale pieces from her office to her apartment to begin work on the finishing and to make room for her newer paintings. This last phase was the delicate part. These were the movements that could destroy three months of work with a single errant brushstroke. She ghosted from one canvas to another until she had breathed the air inches from each of the six paintings before her, and all was determined to be in place. They were finished. 

She lit a cigarette and began wrapping each canvas in brown paper. She tied the canvas blocks together with simple twine and leaned the monument of her work against the kitchen counter. She poured herself another bourbon and offered a meek toast to her image in the mirror. Tomorrow she would have the work delivered to the Cantrell Gallery. 

She hadn’t spoken to Gen since Valentine’s day, when she had surprised her with a midnight appearance at the Gallery with a very specific objective. But she knew Gen would want to see this work. Gen had helped her find some of this work, helped her locate where it was locked inside of her. Maybe if she released of all these paintings, if she put them out to the world just as she put them away in her heart… maybe then she could let go. Maybe then she could move on. 

~***~

Gen was sipping coffee and sorting through a batch of student portfolios when she heard the delivery truck pull up outside the gallery. Jacques was her new part-time student/part-time boy toy, and he hurried to greet the truck. When Gen unwrapped the canvases hidden beneath the brown paper, she gasped. Jacques tried to peer over her shoulder but Gen was immediately struck with the need to be alone. She held a strong hand up, feeling a protective need to cover the paintings from outsiders’ eyes. “I need a moment, Jacques.”

“Of course,” he whispered, and he made a somber exit like a puppy with his tail between his legs. 

Gen pulled six hooks from the ceiling against the large wall in the portrait part of the studio. She hung each of the paintings and then stepped back to look at them under the studio lights. The colors seemed to jump from the canvases towards her. Gen tilted her head, following the lines naturally as her eyes widened. “Oh, Carol,” she whispered, into the silence of the space. 

_~***~_

** _Spring, 2017: Washington, D.C._ **

>  
> 
> _“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.”_
> 
> _~ Franz Kafka_
> 
> _“We can destroy what we have written, but we cannot unwrite it.”_
> 
> _~ Anthony Burgess_

 

Therese stared out the window facing the sink in her small kitchen. She had been washing dishes, but she had caught a glimpse of movement down below and lost track of the task.A blonde woman and a little girl had stopped to rearrange the girl’s hat, and Therese was struck by the mannerisms, the gestures — they were all Carol. She smiled - an emotion recently unfamiliar to her lips. She wondered if Rindy was still painting. She held such promise at her age. She would be so much older now. Two years and change was a long time when you’re a kid. 

The pair walked away from the apartment building and Therese got back to her dishwashing. Her apartment in D.C was larger than the loft in New York by almost double. She wasn’t used to having this many windows. It was… distracting. She had moved her desk to the darkest corner of her bedroom, away from any natural light. That didn’t matter, though. She didn’t do any writing at that desk any more. In fact, she hadn’t even sat at it for over a year. She cringed every time she dusted it, or stubbed her toe running into it’s sharp edges in the early morning light. 

It was impossible to correlate the writing she did for the print and online editions of the news with the writing she did years prior. Her job now was exactly and only that - a job. The things she wrote during her time at Columbia felt more like their own entities, which had been ripped from her chest. She could still remember the feeling of urgency her ideas had then, pecking at her brain with an insistent need to be released, to be birthed. She wrote despite multiple vows to quit writing. Now she looked back on it and wondered what was happening to all those ideas still in her head - still crawling to get out. What would happen to those ideas when their outlet was taken away, out of spite? She had yanked her creative writing out of her life without a second thought, like removing a painful splinter. 

In the early days after she moved to D.C., she had tried to write. She had sat down to her keyboard. She had bled. She bled through a lot of pain, and she thought she’d come to the other side and it was all exorcised; all out in the open. But even after the catharsis, she found that every word she wrote was laced with Carol. Even when she weeded Carol out of her characters, out of her story, Carol was still there in they way she turned a phrase - in the way she evoked a memory. Carol was there in every line, and she could see the red pen moving like ghost ink on her clean white pages. 

Carol was even present in the act of quitting. The memory of her words were like sandpaper that had worn over time on Therese’s brain. Therese remembered the day - she had tried to quit again. She was throwing pages, cursing. Carol had picked them all up slowly and deliberately, facing her calmly when Therese asked her why she shouldn’t quit. Carol’s answer played like a loop every time she walked past her unused desk. “I’m not prepared to give you all the reasons I write, but for you -why do _you_ write? You write because you have no choice _but_ to write. You write because that is the way you understand yourself.” 

Therese looked down as she felt drops of water on her bare feet, then quickly turned off the running water. She shook her head as she started drying the dishes. She would get through this rut, she always did. She just needed to focus on work, and when she wasn’t working she needed to focus on clearing her mind. At least, that’s what Jade kept telling her she needed to do: clear mind, open spirit… or something like that… maybe it was open mind, clear spirit... 

Therese’s thoughts were jolted out of place again, this time from Kitty mewing as the door to her apartment swung closed and a joyful voice made it’s way to the kitchen; “Therese, babe - I’m home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was...weighty..... can't wait to hear your thoughts here ;)


	24. Hell is Something You Carry With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note - three different time jumps here - although everyone is probably used to that by now... more after.

** Chapter 24: Hell is Something You Carry With You **

**_February 2017: Washington, D.C._  **

>  
> 
> _“I think hell is something you carry around with you, not somewhere you go.”_
> 
> _~ Neil Gaiman_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Unfathomable mind: now beacon, now sea.”_
> 
> _~Samuel Beckett_
> 
>  
> 
> _“There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice.”_
> 
> _~F. Scott Fitzgerald_

 

Therese was screaming. She was having the same dream again, but this time with a new, violent sense of urgency. She was standing behind the glass at Carol’s office door, just as she had been, coincidentally, six years earlier. She even wore the same clothing she wore that night, in her dream. “Let me in, Carol!” Her voice escalated in volume and pitch as she pounded against the glass. The same visions of Carol’s darkened eyes flashed before her, like snapshots of light and pain against her eyes. Here a shot of Carol’s hand raising to the glass, here a near-empty glass of bourbon; here a lit cigarette with ashes fluttering to the ground.

But suddenly, with a pain that jolted Therese directly in her chest, the dream shifted to new territory. The scene behind the glass in Carol’s office went dark; the glass itself turning opaque and misty. Therese pounded her fists harder against the blackened glass. “Just let me in, Carol! It will be ok!” The lights flashed on again, but Carol wasn’t standing there. Therese cupped her hands to her face and tried to peer inside. She could barely make out Carol’s lifeless form, crumpled on the ground next to her easel. There was a pool of bright red blood pooling around her golden hair like a perverted halo. “No! Carol! Carol!…”

“Therese! - Therese, wake up! Therese, it’s ok!” Therese opened her eyes to see Jade’s soft brown ones gazing down at her; a long errant deadlock swinging down to graze her face. Opening her eyes from the scene to see a woman that wasn’t Carol made her scream even louder. “Therese it was just a dream! It’s ok, I’m here…shhh, it’s ok baby!” Jade had slipped an arm around Therese’s back and was now using her considerable strength to pull Therese into her; cradling her into her breasts.

Therese breathed in Jade’s scent - she smelled of vanilla - vaguely earthy. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her heart, which was beating out of her chest. She couldn’t clear the sense of dread that lodged in the pit of her stomach after the vision of Carol, lying there motionless and bleeding. She started shaking, and Jade rubbed her arms as if she were cold. Slowly, she began to gather her wits. It was just a dream. But it was unlike any nightmare she had ever had, and that was saying something - Therese had a lot of nightmares. This felt real, ominous. It felt as if she were remembering something; a misplaced file in her normally orderly brain. 

She glanced at the clock as she nuzzled into Jade and tried to go back to sleep. It read 15 Feb, 2017 and it was 2:30 a.m. 250 miles away, Carol Aird was knocking on Gen’s studio door - ironically, she too was seeking to rid her nightmare-ridden mind of images of her love.

~***~

When Therese woke later that morning, she was alone in her bed. The scent of waffles entered her nostrils and she opened her eyes, only to be rudely jolted by a pain in her head that nearly made her scream out loud. Her heartbeat was thudding a harsh whoosh into her ears, like a pickaxe - slowly digging it’s way into her skull. She tried to keep her eyes closed to the sunlight as she fumbled towards the bathroom; and she slipped on a upturned corner of the rug and twisted her ankle. The pain was actually a welcome distraction from her headache, and as she moved up to sit against the dresser she started to laugh at herself. What a state she was in.

Jade heard the fall and came rushing into the bedroom. “Jesus Christ, what happened? Are you ok?” The taller brunette crouched down and put a soft hand to Therese’s cheek.

Therese nodded - “I’m fine. I woke up with a migraine, I was trying to artfully get to my pills while keeping my eyes closed… which was stupid.” She laughed again.

Jades countenance changed as she realized Therese was uninjured. “You should have just called for me, babe; I could have come to help you.” Therese was still not used to the kindness Jade offered her. The fact that someone wanted to help her, to take care of her - that concept was still foreign to her mind. Jade rushed to the bathroom to grab the pills and hurried back to Therese’s side. “Do you need to go back to the doctor, babe? This is happening more frequently, you’re starting to freak me out.”

Therese shook her head and winced as the pills scraped down her dry throat. “No, I think it’s being triggered by my dreams somehow. I had a really bad nightmare last night.”

Jade sat down on the floor next to her. “I know, babe, I was there.” She placed a strong arm around Therese’s smaller shoulders and pulled her close.

Therese hung her head between her knees. She was embarrassed. She knew how violent she could get when she was dreaming, but she had no recollection of this particular event. She remembered the dream, but not the aftermath. “Jade, I’m so sorry. It’s unfair of me to expose you to this madness, this isn’t your problem.”

Jade slapped her back playfully in response. “I don’t consider it a responsibility, Therese. This is happening to you, this is real. I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Therese was overcome with emotion, the pills quelling the pain in her head only to expose the pain in her heart. She didn’t deserve this kindness, especially when she hadn’t been completely honest with Jade about her feelings for Carol. She had only told Jade about Carol in the past tense. She had spoken about the woman she “used to love.” If the dreams were any indication, Carol was still in Therese’s present as much as her breathing; with her every heartbeat. When she raised her head to look into Jade’s sympathetic eyes, she felt wracked with a guilt that chilled her to the bone. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

~***~

**_January 2015: Washington, D.C._ **

 

Dannie finished lugging the last of Therese’s boxes into the apartment she was going to be sharing with his cousin. Therese was so giddy she could barely contain herself. This was the first time she felt excited in as long as she could remember. “What does Jade do, that she can afford a place like this by herself?,” Therese asked, clearly impressed with the surroundings.

“She’s a yoga instructor,” Dannie said.

“Ok, no really - what does she do?” Dannie laughed. Therese handed him a beer and they both sat down, spent, on the expensive leather couch.

Dannie took a healthy swig of his beer before continuing. “Her father is wealthy, and he owns several businesses in D.C. I think they sell paper? I don’t know exactly, but Jade does the accounting. She only works there a few days a week, the rest of the time she seriously is a yoga instructor. I’m sure my uncle pays for the rent here. That is why I told you, Jade won’t be upset if you can’t start paying rent for a while. Give yourself a chance to get on your feet.”

Therese was again overcome with gratitude for her friend. Dannie had not only helped her pick up the pieces after she left Carol - now he had set her up with an apartment for free. She had only met Jade once, a week ago, when she and Dannie had taken the train down to D.C. She had wanted to scope out the neighborhood and plot her route to work, because she knew that would make her feel less anxious about the move.

Jade was warm and kind, just like her cousin. She was tall and lanky, with dark brown eyes set against a deep brow. Her skin was olive and tanned, and she wore her hair in dreadlocks that were long and matured. Therese had always thought of dreadlocks as dirty and gross, but Jade’s were beautiful, and smelled of sandalwood. She wore a simple ring in her nose. She had a giant smile with full lips, and perfect teeth. She was gorgeous. Therese was slightly taken aback when they first met. When Dannie had told her Jade was a “dirty hipster,” she had something completely different in mind.

They heard a key rustle in the lock and Jade appeared in the threshold with a giant smile on her face. “You guys made it!,” she exclaimed, and rushed to give Dannie a hug. She then surprised Therese by embracing her as well. “Welcome home, roomie!” Therese was a little startled at how forward she was, but she did feel welcome. She didn’t feel at home quite yet, though. Dannie tossed Jade a beer and she sat down on the edge of the couch beside them. “Can I help you unpack anything?”

Therese shook her head. “No, thank you - Dannie helped and I don’t really have that much stuff to begin with. Jade - I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here for free until I start getting paid. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jade said. “The rent isn’t going to me anyway, it’s my father’s apartment. I’m just thrilled to finally have a roommate, I’ve been so bored since I moved here from New York.”

Therese drained her beer and reached for another. “Well I hope you don’t have high expectations from me in that category. I’m afraid I’m not much fun - especially these days.”

Dannie shook his head in agreement. “She’s fucking miserable company right now. I almost feel bad for unleashing her on you.” Therese punched him in the shoulder. Dannie laughed, Jade just looked concerned. Dannie took on a more serious tone as he continued. “It’s not Therese’s fault. She got… mixed up with the wrong woman.” Therese cringed, she still didn’t like the way Dannie talked about Carol, even after all that had happened.

Jade put a reassuring hand on Therese’s back. “Well, I’ve been there, trust me. Let me know if you wanna talk about it. Or if you don’t wanna talk about it, and you just wanna talk about something else and forget about it. I’m a pretty good listener.” Dannie nodded his head again in agreement with this.

“I’ve been pretty hard on her about Carol,” Dannie said. Therese shivered again at the mention of her name. “Maybe she could benefit from a less… harsh approach for a while.”

Now it was Therese’s turn to laugh. “Harsh?,” she asked. “You’ve been a total dick is what you’ve been. But I needed it. Really, Dannie. I don’t think I would have had the balls to leave her and get out of that situation if you hadn’t been there to support me. I don’t know what I would have done without you. So I guess I’m thanking you for being a dick.” She gestured her beer bottle towards Dannie and he clinked his against it in a mock toast.

“No, let’s make a toast for real,” Jade interjected. Dannie and Therese raised their glasses and gave their full attention. “To new beginnings,” she stated simply.

“To new beginnings,” they both echoed, bottles clinking all around.

Jade stood up from the corner of the couch and weaseled her way between them, then put one arm around each of them. “Ok, let’s get drunk and watch bad scary movies?”

Therese nodded vigorously. “That sounds perfect.”

~***~

**_October, 2016: Washington, D.C._ **

>  
> 
> _“My passion for her had killed simple lust forever. Never again would I be able to enjoy a woman without love.”_
> 
> _~Graham Greene, The End of the Affair_
> 
>  
> 
> _“The thing with October is, I think, it somehow gets in your very blood. Unapologetically, ruthlessly.”_
> 
> _~ Anne Sexton_

 

Jade’s last yoga class ran late and she missed the last bus of the day. She was weary, but decided to walk back to the apartment on the unseasonably warm autumn night. Had she caught the bus, she might have been able to stop Therese from nearly burning down the apartment. Instead, she walked into a cloud of smoke when she opened the door. She could barely make out Therese at the window, dumping out the contents of a burning trash can.

“What the fuck is going on, Therese - are you ok?” Jade dropped her bag and yoga mat at the door and rushed up behind Therese in the kitchen.

Therese was coughing and her face was covered in grey ash. “It’s fine - I got it. I’m so, so, sorry Jade.” The air started to clear as the last of the burning papers could be seen floating down like dirty snowflakes onto the alley street beneath the window.

Jade could finally see clearly and took in her surroundings. There was an empty bottle of vodka on the counter and another half-empty, smaller bottle on Therese’s desk. A dozen or so brown folders were strewn across Therese’s bedroom floor, emptied of their contents. It didn’t take a genius to put together what has happening here. Therese said nothing, she just started to gather up the rest of the loose papers and stuff them into the still smoking trash can. Jade glanced again at Therese’s desk in the corner of the room and noticed that her computer monitor was shattered; glass strewn across the surface.

“So I’m assuming you decided to take out an insurance policy on the promise you made to never write again?” Jade was teasing, and it was exactly what was needed to break the tension in the room.

Therese chuckled. “I hadn’t written anything in so long, and then - I had an idea. An idea hit me, just in the way they used to, like a strong smell. I couldn’t sit at the desk, but I sat here at the table and I tried to write it. It felt good, at first.”

“But…?” Jade interjected.

“But then I had a drink and I looked at it objectively and I’ll be damned if it’s not just dripping with her. I can’t- I can’t escape her.”

Therese was pacing now, and Jade just sat on the edge of the couch and followed her with her eyes. She let her ramble, didn’t try to cut her off. “Then I just thought of all the work that is still here, the work I didn’t leave on her porch that night. I thought of it and it started to sear my brain, I had to get rid of it.” Jade felt a wave of sadness. She hoped Therese had saved her work online, but she doubted it. She felt a tremendous sense of loss. Regardless of the content and inspiration of Therese’s work, it was brilliant; it didn’t take another writer to appreciate that fact.

Therese continued to pace, and so Jade stood up slowly, and poured her another drink. She placed a strong arm around Therese’s lower back and guided her to sit on the couch. “Here, drink this - you’re trembling.” Therese took the vodka and sipped it quickly, allowing the harsh burn to still her mind and warm her cold heart. They were silent for a long time before Therese finally spoke.

“I don’t know how I can still be so lost without her, after all this time. I don’t understand how she can still have this power over my thoughts when I haven’t’ seen her in almost two years. I feel…haunted.”

Jade moved closer to her and placed a gentle hand on her knee. “Therese, you don’t have a deadline, there isn’t a specific recipe for how you get over someone. Yours was no ordinary relationship. You have to give yourself time.”

Therese was nodding, almost as if in a trance. “She left me with nothing but she also took something from me.” Jade was silent, she waited for Therese to elaborate as much or as little as she needed to. “She took my writing away from me. I can’t - it’s not my own. The way I write, the way I think about what I write - it’s all covered with her, she’s everywhere.” She took a short pause and finished the rest of her glass. “I used to think that writing was the way I understood myself, how I was able to express the feelings I couldn’t say out loud. It used to be mine. But she has someone managed to take that too, all this time later. She drained me. She drained me of everything.” Silent tears were streamingdown her cheeks. She hadn’t the strength for sobs. She was drunk. The vodka and the fumes from the trash can fire had made her dizzy and lightheaded; had painted the room with foggy light.

Jade’s heart was breaking for her friend. It had been a few months since they had even discussed Carol. By now, Jade knew the whole story. Therese was so grateful for her friendship with Jade - for her kindness. Dannie had never pitied Therese. And shortly after she moved to D.C., Therese realized she had never really told anyone else about Carol. Jade had listened and had been gentle, kind. She had offered condolences. Therese didn’t realize how much she had needed simply to be coddled. Jade reached a hand between them to cradle Therese’s chin. She used a finger from her other hand to wipe the soot from Therese’s nose and the tears from her cheek. “It’s going to be ok, Therese.” The sound of her low, velvety voice nearly broke Therese, and she finally started to sob.

Where would she be and what would she be like if Jade hadn’t been here all this time, to support her, to tell her when she was being crazy - to simply be her friend? Where would she be if Jade hadn’t found her last week in the bathtub, after having been a little overzealous with the razor blade while intoxicated? She shuddered at the memory of Jade climbing into the large tub, fully clothed, and wrapping towels around the deep cuts on her thighs. The memory made Therese cry harder.

Jade leaned in towards Therese and pulled her closer, placing a chaste kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to write anymore. It’s not who you are, it’s just something you do. It doesn’t define you.” Therese was struck by these words - they were so contrary to what Carol had always emphasized to her. It was the exact opposite of what Gen had said to her when she first found out she was a writer. She looked up at Jade then, her green eyes striking and clear.

“What did I ever do in this wretched life to deserve a friend like you?” The words came out choked, strangulated.

Jade just laughed and wiped more of her tears away. “Maybe it was something you did in a previous life. Regardless, you deserve happiness, Therese” Her voice was tender and warm, like melted butter. Therese thought about that for a moment, and she brushed a stray dreadlock away from Jade’s face. Maybe she did deserve this. Maybe she did deserve to find some happiness.

A warmth came charging up in her throat as she looked into Jade’s eyes. The vodka had lowered her inhibitions and she couldn’t deny the warmth pooling between her legs as she thought about the strong fingers making patterns through her hair. She hadn’t touched another person since Carol. She felt suddenly bereft, wanting. For the first time in two years she felt…what was it - yearning? Therese closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to Jade’s, forcefully. Jade didn’t pull back, in fact, she whimpered in surprise, and then pulled Therese closer to her on the couch. They allowed their lips and tongues to explore each other, both women feeling a sense of regret even as it was happening, both knowing the situation wasn’t exactly as it should be.

Jade finally pulled away, despite the fire in pelvis pulling her towards Therese like a magnet. She was breathing heavily, almost panting. Therese could see the want in her eyes, she knew she desired her. “Let me guess,” Therese started. “You can’t do this because you know I’m still in love with someone else.”

Jade shook her head, sadly. “No, that’s not it. I’m going to do this despite that.”

Therese was confused. “What, why?”

Jade stood up slowly and started taking off her clothes. She pulled her yoga pants down over her toned legs and Therese gasped to see her naked beneath. She removed her top and bra and stood before Therese, her center at Therese’s eye level. Therese was in awe. Jade was beautiful. Her abs were toned and cut into a defined six pack, but were somehow still soft, and feminine. Her breasts were small but perfectly rounded. Therese allowed herself to drink her in, to admire her perfectly flawless, tanned skin. She reached up and ran a finger along Jade’s collarbone, then pulled her back down to sit beside her.

“I don’t deserve this, Jade. I can’t - I can’t give you anything, I’m not… I’m not ready.”

Jade just smiled and started peppering kisses along the side of Therese’s face and down her jaw. “I’m not asking you for anything, Therese. This doesn’t have to be about me, and it certainly doesn’t have to be about our friendship. This is about you. Let me take care of you?”

Therese was overcome with emotion. She could do nothing but nod, and allow Jade to start removing her top. She watched in awe as the taller woman undressed her with a tenderness and sweetness that made her weep. She continued to cry as she felt a gentle hand press her back into the couch; as she felt a strong leg press up between her own. She gasped as Jade’s leg made contact with her center, the first brush of anything other than her own hand in nearly two years time.

Therese felt winded; she was panting into Jade’s mouth. The fire in her belly started to spread lower and she felt the same frenzied ache in her cunt that she used to feel with Carol. This was different though, it was so much different. She didn’t feel any sort of connection to Jade’s body, she didn’t feel fire ignite her skin everywhere Jade touched, like she had with Carol. She didn’t feel her heart leaping in her chest; it was only the same steady beat, the same marching rhythm of regret. Her nose was filled with different smells, but when she closed her eyes she thought she could still smell Carol, and she even felt a familiar taste prick against her tongue.

She didn’t have time to think much about it though, as she felt Jade’s strong hands moving against her clit, soft lips pressing kisses to her hipbones. Jade knew what she was doing, there was no question about that. It felt tender, sweet. The build was slower than with Carol, but it was happening. A low growl escaped her throat when Jade buried two fingers inside of her, simultaneously moving her mouth to capture her hardened clit and caress it with a skilled tongue.

Jade was very patient, and luckily she had a lot of stamina. Therese wasn’t going to come easily, not anymore. Flashes of memory started to play behind Therese’s eyes as her body was subjected to feelings it had long forgotten. She saw Carol’s creamy pale skin instead of Jade’s tanned body, she felt Carol’s long, delicate fingers inside her. She saw Carol’s hair, her breasts.

She tried to suppress the images, to focus on the woman on top of her - the kind, beautiful, wonderful woman; this woman she didn’t deserve. Jade sensed a change in her breathing and looked up from her task to meet Therese’s gaze. “It’s ok, Therese. I know what you’re thinking. It’s ok. You need this - you need this release. Let me be that for you. That’s all. Just let me help.” Therese nodded and felt the coil slowly wind in her pelvis. When she came, she bit down on her own tongue to keep from screaming Carol’s name, drawing blood in the process.

Jade moved up her body, exhausted, and laid her head on her chest. “Thank you,” was all Therese could manage to say.

“Of course,” Jade replied. Jade hid her face then, careful not to let Therese see her trying to hold back her tears. Jade had meant what she said - she didn’t want this to be about her. But she couldn’t deny the fact that she had wanted it. She had wanted it from nearly the very first moment Therese had come into her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of in love with how this chapter turned out, so I can't wait to hear your thoughts, dear readers. 
> 
> Again, thanks to my buddy for helping me with my timeline on this one. I think you all would have been pissed if I would have left it as it was before her suggestion- let's leave it at that ;)


	25. This Is What Hope Feels Like

** Chapter 25: This Is What Hope Feels Like  **

**_October, 2017: New York City_ **

> _“Sometimes I wonder if we made a mistake. What if we weren’t supposed to let each other go? What if it was a test, and we failed?”_
> 
> _~ Ranata Suzuki_

 

Abby was standing up to leave the coffee house. Carol was almost 20 minutes late, and Abby had essays to grade. She hated herself for feeling disgruntled. She felt guilty for chastising anything Carol did at this point. Who was she to judge how Carol was choosing to hold her life together? Did Abby really have the right to be pissed at her for being late for a fucking coffee date?

She was sipping the last dregs of her coffee when Carol rushed in, blonde hair blowing wildly as the revolving door swooshed behind her. Abby shot her a patronizing glare and Carol hurried over to their corner booth. “Sit down, darling; I’m so terribly sorry, I’m sorry.” Abby just shook her head and sat back down. She eased her coat off her shoulders and Carol relaxed.

Carol motioned towards the waitress who nodded and brought over a second cup and a fresh carafe of coffee. Carol poured both women another cup and tried to explain her tardiness. “I was painting. I lost track of time while I was painting.”

Abby’s eyes darted up at her and she almost dropped her cup, mid sip. “You what?,” she asked, eyes wide. Carol laughed. It was Carol’s old laugh - deep and hearty. Abby’s heart warmed at the sound. God, it had been months - maybe even years since she’d heard that laugh. She reached for Carol’s hand across the table and squeezed it. "What are you working on?” Carol’s eyes squinted a bit at the question, as if she’d been offended by it. She tried to pull her hand back, but Abby stopped her. “You don’t have to tell me, Carol. It doesn’t matter. I’m happy for you. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see your smile.”

Carol suddenly felt awful. She had kept Abby in the dark for so long after the accident. She had run to Gen, and she had shut Abby out. It wasn’t intentional, but Carol felt guilty about her behavior when she was around Abby. She knew Abby wouldn’t approve of her relationship with Gen - even though Carol would never classify it as a relationship. But, Abby would - that was the problem. Abby saw everything as black and white, and Carol’s entire life after the accident was one enormous palate of grey.

“No, Abby. You’re right to ask. I’m sorry. I want you to see what I’ve been working on.” Abby looked back up at her, unable to hide the relief and happiness in her gaze. “I’d love to,” she said. Carol nodded resolutely. “I’ve been seeing Genevieve Cantrell again.”

The older woman bore no look of surprise at Carol’s admission. “I know you have.”

Carol was the one who was surprised. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Gen to Abby, not since Valentines night, when she had seen Gen for the first time in years. “How…how would you know that?” Carol’s voice was tinged with fear. She still had a remarkable paranoia surrounding people spying on her. She still looked over the her shoulder every time she got out of a cab at Gen’s studio, even though her husband was locked away in prison. She wondered if she would ever be able to be comfortable; ever be able to live her life without that fear. She thought back to the picnic she had promised Therese. She thought about taking Therese in her arms in the middle of Central Park and swinging her around; kissing her lips. She saw now how much of a coward she had been. She knew that if she was ever granted another opening into Therese’s life, she would do everything she could to show her she wasn’t afraid anymore. Paranoia be damned.

“Rindy told me.”

Carol was immediately jerked from her thoughts. “She what? How?”

Abby just chuckled. “She’s eleven, Carol. She’s not stupid.” Carol’s countenance seemed only to grow more puzzled. “I was over there on a Saturday about a month or so ago,” Abby explained. “You were gone, which seemed weird because it was noon, and that’s the time on the weekends you like to take naps, because you’re usually still drunk in the morning.” Carol reached up and cuffed her friend on the shoulder. “Well that’s just a fact, dear,” Abby said. “You can’t argue with facts.” Carol said nothing. “Relax, it’s not like she said ‘Mom’s fucking Genevieve Cantrell.’ I mostly used my brilliant deductive reasoning to get to that part.” Carol was trying to hide a grin. Leave it to Abby. “She said that you were out with that ‘painter lady’ again. Really only one ‘painter lady’ came to mind.” Carol’s cheeks flushed a bright crimson. Abby laughed. “Carol, you’ve been through a remarkable ordeal. You need an outlet, you need to be free to be emotional, and physical, and open with someone. I know you thought I would disapprove of you seeing Gen, but you couldn’t be more wrong. I understand it.” Carol stood up and moved to the other side of the booth to sit next to her friend, immediately wrapping both arms around Abby and hugging her tight. Abby pulled back slightly and put a hand to Carol’s chin, forcing eye contact. “That doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be with her forever, though, you know that… right?”

Carol nodded. “I do know that,” she said softly. “And Abby… I know you think I should go to Therese. I know you think I should have gone after the accident. I just - I can’t bring myself to do it. Every time that I think about it I just feel so unprepared. I want to give her everything. After what I’ve done to her, what I’ve taken, I want to give her the whole world. But I don’t have anything to give right now. I can’t go to her empty.”

Abby was shaking her head, disapprovingly. “What is it?,” Carol pressed.

“I know you think you can’t go to her now. And I respect your decision, for whatever reasons you’ve chosen to make it. But don’t make excuses like that. You’re a smart woman, Carol. If two people are supposed to be together, do you really think it matters if both of them have their entire fucking lives figured out; have all their proverbial ducks in a row? Do you really think Therese would give two fucks if you still have a drinking problem, or look like a walking skeleton, or if your new paintings are terrible?” Abby was on a roll. Carol tried to interject, to defend herself; but Abby kept right on talking. “You’ve made this excuse that you can’t go back to her because it wouldn’t be fair to her. But that’s a cover-up. You’re not in D.C right now banging down her door because you’re _afraid_ , Carol. You’re afraid she’s moved on. And if you keep putting it off, you can at least pretend that there’s a possible future for the two of you. I just think that if you’re going to continue to be a coward, at least have the fucking balls to call it for what it is.” As soon as the words were out, Abby clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Carol,” Abby whispered through her fingers. “I got carried away. I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth.”

Carol looked up at her friend and Abby was surprised to see her smiling. “Thank you, Abigail.”

Abby was stunned. “For….for what, calling you a coward?”

Carol leaned her head on her friends shoulder. “Yeah, for that. Mostly, though - thank you for waking me up.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Abby felt a wave of relief. Carol was listening. Carol was painting. The hurricane of destruction that seemed to be hovering just off the coast of Carol’s life for the past 10 months finally seemed to be retreating. It was being pushed back further and further each time Carol smiled her old smile, or laughed her old laugh. It was time to act. Abby would call Carol a bloody coward every day, if that’s what it took. She would hold a mirror up to Carol’s face, just as she had so many times before, and she would show Carol that she was being an idiot. And maybe, hopefully… eventually… Abby would find a way to bring Therese and Carol back together.

Carol stood up and held out her hand to her friend. “Come on. Let’s go see the paintings.” Abby smiled at her. She allowed Carol to wrap their arms together around their backs as they walked into the brisk fall night.

~***~

Gen had company that night. Abby and Carol didn’t realize this when they approached the studio, as all they could see through the windows was Gen standing alone in front of her easel. Carol let herself in with a key. Abby frowned a little when she realized that Carol had her own key to Gen’s place. The music was blaring in the studio, which was uncharacteristic of Gen. She usually liked to work in silence.

Abby and Carol both waved to get her attention, not wanting to startle her. She smiled back at both of them and mouthed “hi!” over the blaring music. Carol pointed a questioning finger at one of the large wall speakers. Gen grabbed a remote and hit the pause button, only to unmask the sounds of two women moaning in the loft upstairs. Or was it two women and a man? Abby and Carol’s eyes went wide and they hung their heads in embarrassment. Gen just laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming by tonight, Carol.”

Carol couldn’t stop laughing. Abby’s eyes were still wide, trying to understand the scene taking place in front of her. Carol didn’t seem mad that Genevieve was having an orgy in her absence. That was….reassuring? No, reassuring definitely wasn’t the right word for it. “Hey, party people!” Gen yelled, her voice echoing in the open space. “Some more interesting people just showed up, so get the fuck out. Take the back stairs.”

Carol kept laughing; “I hope Sarah wasn’t amongst that bunch, it’d be a shame if you kicked her out for me twice.”

Gen walked towards Carol and kissed her on the mouth. Abby had to look away. “Don’t be silly, Carol,” Gen chided, pinching Carol’s cheek. “Sarah would never bore me like that. How bored does one have to be to leave 3 people naked in bed and go paint?” Abby was still just staring at Gen with widened eyes. “It’s ok, Abby - it was a rhetorical question.” Gen realized how uncomfortable Abby looked, so she backed away from Carol; clearing her throat. “What brings you two here at this hour?,” Gen asked.

Carol walked over to the bar and took down three glasses; filled them with bourbon. “I just wanted to show Abby the work,” Carol stated. “It’s time that someone else sees it. It’s time to set it free.” Gen was grinning back at Carol widely. Abby felt like she was still missing out on an inside joke of some kind.

Carol handed out the glasses. Both Abby and Gen seemed to be still struck mute. Abby jumped when Gen reached down and grabbed her hand, and walked her over to the back corner of the studio. Abby turned to face the curious short woman. “Abby, I’m so glad she’s allowing someone else to see these. Finally, someone will understand why I’m so eager for the world to see this work.” Gen handed Abby her glass so she could adjust the lights on Carol’s canvases.

Carol stood back behind the work, simply taking in Abby’s face as Abby’s eyes moved from one canvas to the next. Carol watched as her best friend moved closer to each painting in turn. Somehow, some time in between the accident and now, Carol Aird had transformed into an impressionist. No - it was more complex than that. Her use of shapes, her mastery of color and light - it was memorizing. Each painting evoked emotion, each moved Abby to tears. Each canvas was different; some were not even recognizable as human forms - yet their subjects were all clear. They were all paintings of Therese.

Gen moved to stand next to Carol as Abby made her way around the room. “Carol, allow me to display the work. A show like this could bring you a lot of attention. This could put you back on the map.” Abby was nodding her head in agreement.

Carol just shook her head. “No, not a show. And both of you should know me well enough to know I care nothing for being put on any map.”

Gen frowned. “Ok well, think of the studio Carol - auctioning off this work could really put _me_ on the map.” She pasted on her infamous sardonic grin.

Carol shook her head harder this time. “Absolutely not. This isn’t for sale. It belongs to her. When they’re finished, they all go to her. That isn’t negotiable.” Gen moved to speak, but Carol cut her off. “I mean it, Genevieve.” The meaning of this exchange wasn’t lost on Abby. Carol planned on giving all of the paintings to Therese - that had to mean she was planning to see her again. And these paintings were almost finished. Maybe she planned on doing it soon. Abby tried not to get too excited, she knew better than to make rash assumptions where Carol was concerned. Gen was dejected. Abby was surprised to hear Carol pipe up again. “If you think showing the work would be feasible in a fundraising setting…”

Gen’s eyes snapped up at Carol’s words, widened and intense. “Go on, Carol,” Gen prodded.

Carol set her drink on the bar before she continued. “There’s a foundation that helps children like Rindy, with spinal cord injuries. Children that don’t have the same resources Rindy has to undergo physical therapy. Some children can’t even pay for the repeat surgeries that would allow them to walk, to hold a pen. Rindy came to me last week and showed me this brochure. She had so much compassion in her voice when she talked about the kids she had met at the hospital. She asked me if we had enough money to help her friends. We have money, sure. But Rindy wants to raise a million dollars. The Ross Foundation can only leverage about a quarter of that right now. If you two think we can put together a show, I’ll auction off all of my work. I mean all of it. All except these six paintings.”

Abby and Gen were still mute. They were also now confused. “Wait,” Abby said. “There’s more? More new work, or are you referring to all of of your previous work? I mean, you’re good Carol, but maybe not a million dollars good.”Carol smirked and took a long sip of her drink.

“I won’t sell these six, these are for her. But these are six out of 39 canvases I have finished since Rindy’s accident.” Gen choked on her bourbon. “We can pool this with the old work, with Gen’s work, with the student’s work. I think we have enough. Especially if people know they are bidding towards a good cause.”

Gen was in shock. Carol must have been painting around the clock. She was more in awe of this woman than she’d ever been. “Carol, if the other 33 paintings are anything as close to as brilliant as these, we don’t need anyone else’s work. The planning for this starts now. Tell Rindy, it’s on.” Carol beamed at her friends and brought them together for a group hug.

~***~

**_October, 2017: Washington, D.C._ **

> _“I still love you. And sometimes the love that I have and can’t give to you crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.”_
> 
> _~Gregory David Roberts_

 

Therese sat down on a stack of boxes, exhausted. She cracked a beer and started rifling through more of her journals. Since she gave up creative writing, she ironically also started using journals. Her post-it note methodology did not lend itself well to journalism. Also, post-it notes still made her think of Carol. She was surprised how little stuff she had accumulated in three years in D.C. She supposed she hadn’t ever really moved in.

Jade had asked her to stay. She said they could go back to the way it was before, go back to being just friends. Therese knew that would never work. She saw the way Jade looked at her. She knew that look all too well. The look of longing, of desperation. That’s the same look Therese used to give Carol. Jade was the kindest person Therese had ever known. Staying in her life was simply unfair.

Her phone rang and she was startled when she recognized the number. She had deleted it from her phone, but she still remembered it. Gen’s studio. She silenced it at first, deciding she would ignore it, but then curiosity got the best of her and she picked it up at the last minute. “Genevieve?” Therese’s voice came out more hesitant, more meek than she would have liked.

“Hello, Therese.” Gen’s voice hadn’t changed. Therese felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She suddenly felt the urge to hang up, to throw her phone away, to jump back as if she had touched a hot stove. Gen seemed to let the silence drag on, until Therese wondered if she had hung up on her. Just when she was about to end the call, Gen spoke. “Therese, I know it’s been a long time, and I don’t know what your situation is. But I was hoping to extend an invitation to you - to come to see Carol’s new work… to come to see Carol.”

Therese was frozen, she couldn’t speak - she could barely even breathe. Why was this happening, why now? She stammered into the phone. “I don’t… know…I… why, Gen?” She was beyond caring that she sounded silly. She was just trying to keep her head attached to her shoulders; keep it from floating away like a balloon.

“A lot has… happened since you’ve been gone. I don’t want to explain it over the phone. I just hoped that maybe you would take my word for it. I hoped maybe you would…trust me.” T

Therese laughed. This was ridiculous. Was she dreaming? It had been days since she slept, she had just broken up with her girlfriend literally hours ago. Everything felt surreal. “Is this some sort of prank, Gen?”

“No, of course not,” Gen said, softly. “And you don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t have to come unless it’s something you want to do. Carol doesn’t even know that I’m asking you. I just know that she would like to see you. After all that’s happened… I just…she needs to see you, Therese.”

Therese didn’t know exactly what ridiculousness Gen was referring to when she said “all that had happened.” That phrase could really encompass a great swath of time, a great deal of circumstances when it came to her past with Carol. But leave it to Gen to be vague at a time like this. Gen was growing nervous, Therese had been silent for a long time. Finally, Gen made her last plea - a stab in the dark. “Therese - will you just think about it? Think about it, and I’ll call you with the details in a few weeks?”

Therese was happy to be let off the hook. She didn’t need to make any decisions right now. She felt her head swimming, the hints of a migraine pricking its way into her temples. “Ok, Gen. I’ll think about it.” Therese hung up quickly then and put her hand to her mouth. She quickly went in search of her headache pills. What a fucking day.

It didn’t take more than a split second for Therese to decide she would go to New York. She had made the decision before she had hung up on Gen. It was probably stupid, and she would probably get hurt again. But all she could think about in that moment was seeing Carol’s face again. Her cold heart started to flutter against her chest, sending warming tendrils throughout her limbs. She smiled. This felt like… hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, to all those who have decided to stick with me! I am so overwhelmingly grateful for the support. I am obviously continuing to tell this story in my way, as that is really the only way I know how. Thanks to everyone who has commented and especially to those who came and made comments for the very first time after the last chapter! 
> 
> The last few chapters have been pretty linear in time progression, so hopefully that hasn't been too confusing. I do plan to hop around a bit more before this ride is over, so I'll try to continue to make mentions of time jumps in the notes before they occur. 
> 
> Thanks again! I can't wait to hear your thoughts, as always!


	26. Come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok read this, then we'll chat ;)

** Chapter 26: Come Home **

**_June, 2014_   **

 

> _"Every moment of my life from now until I die_
> 
> _I will think, or dream of you, and fail to understand_
> 
> _How a perfect love could be confounded out of hand_
> 
> _Is it written in the stars?_
> 
> _Are we paying for some crime?_
> 
> _Is that all that we are good for, just a stretch of mortal time?_
> 
> _Or some gods experiment, in which we have no say-_
> 
> _In which we’re given paradise - but only for a day?_
> 
>  
> 
>   _~ "Written in the Stars” - Aida_
> 
>  

“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this.” Therese was shivering. Carol just laughed at her. Therese was lying naked on the couch in Carol’s office. Carol had a glass of bourbon in her right hand and a pencil in her left; sketchbook in her lap; cigarette between her lips.Carol frowned as Therese pulled a blanket from the top of the couch and draped it over her shoulders. She snubbed the cigarette in the ashtray and moved towards the girl on the couch.

“Stop being so dramatic, darling.” Carol’s voice was barely above a whisper, the sound sending shivers down Therese’s spine. Carol picked up the younger woman’s legs and shimmied underneath them; placed them back down in her lap. “It’s just a sketch. And when I paint you, it’s just for me.”

Therese looked incredulous. “Promise me?” Therese asked. “Promise if you’re ever going to show them, that you’ll ask me first?”

Carol snorted. “Of course, darling - but you don’t need to worry about that. Besides, I don’t need to paint you, not when I have the real thing, right here. ”She moved closer to Therese and started running her long fingers up the young woman’s pale thighs. She casually ran her fingers over the freckles covering Therese’s shoulders, ticking her collarbone. Carol freed herself from under Therese’s legs and swung her body gracefully to cover the younger woman below, allowing their frames to touch. Therese sighed at the contact and allowed her body to relax, to be molded by Carol’s weight on top of her.

Carol buried her face into Therese’s neck, nuzzling her lips against the pulse point, inhaling her unique scent. Therese smelled sweet, like honey, and her skin was warm under Carol’s mouth; her pulse drumming wildly. Carol’s heart swelled and she frantically kissed her way down Therese’s neck to her collarbone, lavishing the younger woman’s skin with kisses and licks. Therese looked up at Carol, her green eyes were wide. Carol dipped her head to take a nipple in her mouth, but she didn’t break eye contact.

Therese shivered under Carol’s touch. Carol knew just how to tease her, how to draw her out. Carol’s warm tongue was swirling around her nipple, and Therese struggled to keep her eyes open and focused on Carol. Therese’s vision was blurry but she laughed a little when Carol started nibbling down her stomach. Carol still had a pencil tucked behind her ear, and one hand was drawn up above her head, grasping Therese’s nipple tightly. Therese thought that it was the sexiest view she had ever seen. “I wish you could paint this, you and me, just like this.” The young woman’s voice was only a whisper, because Carol ministrations were drawing all the breath from her chest in deep gasps.

As Carol’s warm mouth finally met its destination, Therese moaned and threw her head back; breaking eye contact with Carol. Every time Therese looked away, Carol would stop moving her mouth against her until she met her gaze again. It wasn’t a very fun game at first, because Therese was accustomed to shielding her eyes when she came — she had always felt too vulnerable. But she learned quickly to keep her focus… anything to keep that skilled tongue lapping at her, filling her.

The young woman realized that this was the most intimate moment she had ever had. She watched Carol make her body do these things, watched the spark in Carol’s eyes, bringing her back to reality after she exploded around her again and again. The vision of Carol as she was in that moment was seared into Therese’s brain for eternity.

Carol took her time returning to Therese, licking a trail back up the younger woman’s sweaty skin. She nuzzled their noses together. Therese was still panting heavily and almost didn’t realize that Carol had started to speak until she felt hot breath against her cheek. “I just want you to know, that whatever happens— you’re my home. You’re home to me, Therese.”

The younger woman groggily came back to reality and her eyes met Carol’s once more. “What are you talking about, Carol?” She propped herself up on an elbow and gave all of her attention to Carol.

Carol took Therese’s hand in her own, but briefly looked away. In that moment, there was enough time for her to seal her emotions away again.“Promise me, that no matter what happens, you’ll find your way back home to me.” Carol whispered it softly, like a prayer.

Therese grabbed Carol’s chin, forcing eye contact in her own way. “Why are you talking crazy, Carol?” Therese’s voice was loud, angry. “Is this because I said that I loved you? I told you already, you don’t have to say it back. I understand. I know that you’re not ready.” Carol was shaking her head gently, but didn’t break eye contact this time. She let Therese say what she needed to say. “I’m not going to apologize for saying it,” Therese continued. “I don’t take it back. But you scare me with the way you’re talking, in metaphors. I don’t need to find my way back to you, I’m with you. I’ll always be with you. I don’t know how to be without you, Carol.” Therese broke the eye contact this time. She wrapped her arms around Carol’s shivering frame and hold her close.

_~***~_

**_November, 2017_ **

 

> _“Hello world, I hope you’re listening_
> 
> _Forgive me if I’m young,_
> 
> _For speaking out of turn._
> 
> _There’s someone I’ve been missing_
> 
> _I think that she could be_
> 
> _The better half of me_
> 
> _She’s in the wrong place, trying to make it right_
> 
> _But I’m tired of justifying_
> 
> _So I say to you -_
> 
> _Come home_
> 
> _Come home_
> 
> _‘Cause I’ve been waiting for you for so long_
> 
> _And right now there’s a war between the vanities_
> 
> _But all I see is you and me_
> 
> _The fight for you is all I’ve ever known_
> 
> _So come home_
> 
>  
> 
> _Everything I can’t be_
> 
> _Is everything you should be_
> 
> _And that’s why I need you here.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _~ One Republic & Sara Bareilles, “Come Home” _

 

Carol was pacing around her office, and Abby was nervous. It had been three days since either Gen or Abby had heard from Carol, and Abby had lost the bet as to which of them had to go check on their fragile friend. As much as they bitched about it, Abby was glad she had found camaraderie with Gen. She was glad she didn’t feel so alone in trying to prop Carol up; in trying to dig her out of this rut. Both Abby and Gen knew what was at stake. Tense wouldn’t be a strong enough word to describe Carol in these weeks leading up to the show. 

“What’s your deal, Carol? You don’t answer your phone, Janette told me you haven’t been coming to class. I know you’re focused on painting but maybe let someone in a bit so we can help you?” 

Abby laughed then, which pulled Carol to attention. “Why are you laughing?,” the blonde asked.

“I just heard myself, that’s all,” Abby shrugged. “Forget I asked.” Abby could no longer disguise the fact that she was disgusted with Carol’s behavior. She still loved her friend, but she was growing sick of it all. To be fair, though, part of her disgust may be related to the fact that she had been talking to Gen. She hated that Carol had run to Gen in her time of need, instead of to her. 

“I’m listening, Abby - why are you here, chastising me?” Carol had finished pacing and was perched on her desk, cigarette in hand. 

“I’m not here to chastise you, Carol, I’m here to help you. But you clearly don’t want my help, so fuck it. I’ll go.” Abby moved to leave, but Carol grabbed her arm as she walked past.

“I’m sorry,” Carol whispered. “I know, I’ve behaved terribly. I’m just out of my mind about this stupid show. I can’t believe I let you and Gen talk me into it.” Carol lit a cigarette and the two of them sat on the couch. 

They were silent for a long while before Carol finally spoke, exhaling after a long drag. “Rindy told me she hated me today.” Carol chuckled, Abby just looked at her with concern. “I told her to join the crowd.” Carol stood and poured both women a healthy glass of bourbon. “She said the only reason I’m trying to get her to work so hard with therapy is because I feel guilty about what happened. She may be right.” 

Abby took the glass from Carol and immediately set it down on the table, choosing instead to wrap a strong arm around her friend’s shoulder after she sat back down. “Carol, we’ve been through this. What happened was not your fault. You’re a wonderful mother - the way you’ve been there for Rindy through her recovery - she couldn’t ask for a better support system, all in one woman. But you _are_ only one woman, Carol. You can’t carry all of this alone.” Carol was just shaking her head back and forth as Abby spoke; taking quiet, large sips from her glass. Abby added: “Rindy is a little shit for saying that, and I hope you told her so.” 

Carol stood up again quickly and resumed her pacing. She started laughing again, and it was the same maniacal laughter Abby recognized from another time…from another Carol. “None of this is new territory with Rindy, believe me.” Carol’s voice was clear, pointed. “Nothing Rindy could ever say to me could hold a candle to how miserable I already feel. Which, ironically, makes me feel like a worse mother.” 

Carol lit a cigarette and stopped pacing. Perched on the corner of her desk, she faced Abby with clear, sad eyes. “All of this, the accident, the regret I carry for not leaving Harge the night he first hit me, the regret for ever allowing Rindy to be in the same room with him after he became violent - all of that…constantly reliving that night…none of it holds a candle to the regret I already carried.” Abby’s nostrils flared at the intensity of Carol’s words. Abby’s eyes burned as she held back her tears; wanting to be strong for her friend. 

“Imagine the regret for ruining the only true love I’ve ever known. Nothing could change that. And love like that - like I felt for Therese - that’s the whole thing. That’s the holy grail. It’s all…window dressing after that.” Carol ceased her pacing and sat down once more, exhausted. “So I can say that, just like that. Think of the guilt I carry, for that being my truth. The guilt I carry for my own regret. It’s a vicious cycle, like a cat chasing it’s tail.” 

Abby was about to chime in, to say something about how she was sure Carol would get through this, that she just needed to hold on; lean on her friends. She would get through this. But realization struck Abby like cold water to her face. Carol was punishing herself. All of this: the drinking, the mania, fucking Genevieve…suddenly it all made sense. It was like Carol was enforcing her own sentence; as if she had a dedicated time for which she had agreed to suffer. It was with this lens that she now heard Carol’s words. She realized she had to let her friend work through this part on her own. But, she could listen. She could comfort. And so Abby took Carol’s head into her lap and stroked her hair.

“Therese was my home,” Carol whispered. It had been so long since she had spoke, Abby thought she might have fallen asleep. 

Abby resumed stroking Carol’s cheek. “I’m here,” Abby said. “You can tell me.” 

Carol continued, through tears. “I destroyed my own home, and then expected to feel comfortable, anywhere else, with anyone else - ever again. I deserve everything that has happened to me. I told her once that she was my home. It was the closest I ever came to telling her I loved her. And I begged her…I remember it, clear as day. I remember being struck, like an epiphany. I begged her to always find her way back to me; to find her way home to me. After the accident, I don’t believe in a god anymore, but I pray to the empty space every night that she will someday make good on that promise.”

_~***~_

**_December, 2017_ **

 

> _“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you_
> 
> _Take me back to the night we met_
> 
> _I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, I’m haunted by the ghost of you_
> 
> _Take me back to the night we met”_
> 
>  
> 
> _~Lord Huron “Night we Met”_

 

Abby and Therese were huddled together in the back of a freezing cab on the way to Genevieve’s studio. It was still a few hours before the show was scheduled to begin, and Gen had just called Abby to confirm that Carol wouldn’t be arriving for a while. Abby wanted Therese to have a chance to see the art, to acclimate herself. She wanted Therese to have some time alone with her paintings.

Both women were fidgeting, minds reeling. Abby was still shocked that Therese was sitting next to her. She was so sure the plan she had hatched with Gen would have failed. Once Abby had seen the work and they decided there would be a show, she went back to the studio to speak to Gen privately. Abby and Gen weren’t friends, they certainly didn’t know each other well, but when Abby showed up at Gen’s studio that fall day, both said the same words almost simultaneously: “Therese must be here.”

Therese felt like her skin was on fire, from the base of her feet to the top of her head. She was one giant bundle of nerves. She didn’t know what her visceral reaction would be when she saw Carol. Her heart was still breaking for Rindy, and the news she had just learned was like a fresh cut to already sore skin.

She wasn’t surprised when she heard that she was the subject of several of Carol’s paintings, and she was even less surprised when Gen told her that Carol wouldn’t allow those paintings to be part of the show unless she gave her permission. Carol was too afraid to ask. Therese told Gen she didn’t care what they did with the paintings, and Gen was offended. “Well you should bloody care,” she said. “They’re fucking masterpieces and the world should see them but they can’t either fucking way, because I can’t tell her I even spoke to you or she would cut off my tits.” Gen always had a way with words.

Therese had snapped right back at her; “so you don’t think she’ll cut them off when I randomly appear at an event I wasn’t supposed to know was happening?”

Therese remembered the sense of relief she had felt when she heard Gen’s laughter in response. “Well, I was hoping you’d see each other, and everything else would become a moot point.” Therese was hoping that too. As they rode the last few blocks in silence, she hoped for it so hard her teeth were clenching. 

Abby put a reassuring hand on her thigh, pulling her from her thoughts. “I don’t know if this is going to mean anything to you…” Abby started speaking but then paused, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue her thought.

Therese finally peeled her eyes away from the window and rejoined Abby in the back of the cab. “You can tell me, Abby - what is it?”

Abby sighed deeply and continued. “I’ve known Carol since I was 10 years old. I know her better than anyone, better than I know my own wife. I won’t ever apologize for her or for who she is, because I love who she is. But that doesn’t change the fact that the way she treated you was… inexcusable.” Therese couldn’t hide her surprise at Abby’s words. It was as if a dam had been opened, and now the words were spilling form Abby like a confession. “The way she hid from you,” the older woman shook her head. “The way she hid from herself. I still get goosebumps thinking about it, so I can only imagine what you must be going through right now.” Therese thought that, at this moment, if anyone could even come close to understanding what she was feeling right now -it was Abby. She tried not to hold her breath as Abby continued. “And so, I say this not tomake excuses, but because if I don’t say it, I know I’ll regret it. And if I’ve learned anything from Carol’s story, it’s that regret is the most painful emotion. The one that cuts the deepest.”

Abby paused again, this time glancing down at her lap and Therese had to put a hand to Abby’s shoulder to urge her to continue. Therese knew how loyal and devoted Abby was to Carol. She knew it couldn’t have been easy, betraying her confidence like this, going behind her back to get Therese to come to the show. It couldn’t be easy to say the words she was saying now. “She loved you, Therese. And I know you know that, and you don’t need for me to tell you that, and it isn’t news to you. But… my god, how she loved you.” Therese brushed tears from her cheek, stifling them as much as possible, so as not to deter Abby from finishing her thoughts. If Abby was saying it, it must be true. “Only very recently she told me about the regret she still carries for never being honest with you about her feelings and for the way things ended. She said it is the greatest pain she has ever known. And Carol has known a lot of pain.” Therese was choked up; she could only nod in agreement. Abby sounded resolute now. “Carol considers everything that happened since you left - the accident, all of it… she considers it the cost of her regret. She’s punishing herself, keeping herself away from you.”

This was growing harder for Therese to hear. It was easier to swallow when it was information Therese already knew, but now Abby was wandering into territory that would involve shedding new light on Carol’s psyche; divulging new details of their time since Therese moved away….new details that could dismantle Therese’s already delicate emotional balance. She needed that balance if she was going to make it through this night.

As the cab was pulling onto the street which Therese recognized as being home to Gen’s studio, Abby hastened to finish her thought. “I didn’t understand her behavior for so long. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t go to you, wouldn’t confess all these things to you directly instead of through me. I thought it was because she was being a coward. I thought she was afraid to show up on your doorstep in D.C only to find you had moved on; to find you loved someone else - someone who deserved it. But now I see that wasn’t it at all. I should have known, because Carol isn’t afraid of anything. She is punishing herself, Therese. And you’ve both suffered enough.”

With that, Abby turned her back on Therese and stepped out of the cab into the cold winter air. Therese felt paralyzed for a moment as she followed Abby inside the studio. Everything felt so surreal. Everything about the studio was the same and yet so different; the weight of history changing everything - tainting it, coloring it in a new and harsh light.

~***~

Gen wore a somber smile when the two women entered the studio, reminding Therese of the countenance one would adopt when greeting a widow at a funeral. Seeing Gen wasn’t something Therese had thought to prepare herself for. She had been too busy preparing herself to see Carol. Therese was struck by her visceral reaction to seeing Gen again. She felt - pity? Or was it just grief? She didn’t know how to appropriately name her increasingly complex emotions these days.

When Gen embraced Therese, the younger woman froze in her arms, shuddering awkwardly. Gen released her quickly, eyes worried. “I’m sorry, Therese - I didn’t mean to overstep. Are you ok?”

Something inside of Therese snapped then, quickly followed by the welling of a cold rage. All of this was so ridiculous. She couldn’t fall into this trap again. She couldn’t be mesmerized by Gen’s easy sensuality, her strong arms. She couldn’t hide inside of other people. She had done that too often, for far too long. “It’s fine, Gen. Just show me the goddamn paintings.”

Gen dropped her head. Abby walked out of the room with a hand to her face. Therese felt badly, but she was starting to wonder if this was all a set-up of some kind. She felt completely exposed. Gen gestured with her head towards the loft. Therese followed her up the stairs, breathing heavily. She didn’t know what Gen would try to do. Six to one half dozen the other she’d try to fuck her against the glass walls, as she had done so many times before.

Gen turned on the display lights in the loft, which were hardly ever used. Therese was shocked to see it had been transformed. Gen’s bed was stashed in the far corner; the bar had been pushed back against the wall. There were five studio sized easels set up in the center of the space. Therese wheeled around to express her surprise to Genevieve, but she had gone.

~***~

Abby called Therese’s name, and Therese thought she heard the voice as though it was coming through water, across a vast chasm. Therese still didn’t move from her place in front of one of the paintings, and jumped when Abby placed a hand to her shoulder. “Are you ok, Therese? You’ve been up here for a while. The doors are going to open soon.”

“My wrist,” Therese said.

“What?” Abby asked.

Therese was still staring at the painting, not making eye contact with Abby. She tilted her head slightly to the side, following the lines on the canvas with her eyes, her movements instinctual, reflexive. “Look, the way she painted my wrist.” Abby’s eyes joined Therese’s gaze on the painting. “It was broken, when I was a kid,” Therese continued. “She knew it, she…she felt it. She painted it. I didn’t know that’s what she was doing when she…I didn’t know. After it happened, I never went to the hospital because my parents didn’t want to be saddled with the medical bills. I never healed properly, and there’s this bump…that bump,” she gestured at the painting. “That bump right there.”

“That’s not all.” Gen surprised both women by walking up behind them silently while they were engrossed in the art before them. Gen placed her hand to Therese’s other shoulder, joining Abby to bolster Therese between them, a gesture of support. After a silent moment, Gen continued. “The freckles. Just above your right shoulder.”

Therese blushed. “I saw them,” she said. “She painted those too.” When Therese closed her eyes she could still feel Carol tracing those spots with her hands, with her tongue. Her skin felt as if she had been burned, singed by her own memories.

Gen took a big step to come between Therese and the painting. “I’m sorry, T, but it’s time. Doors open in 15 minutes. What say you?”

Therese raised her eyes to face Gen, tears covering her face and the front of her shirt. “Show the paintings.” Therese’s voice was startlingly resolute, betraying her wavering heart. All three women knew the implications of this decision. When Carol saw these paintings displayed at the show, she would know Abby and Gen had betrayed her; had asked Therese permission to show them. “I’m ready,” Therese said. She repeated it again, if only to reaffirm it to her own ears. “I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest readers - please accept my most humble apologies for the delay. I know this has been the longest time I've ever had between updates. I wanted to reassure you - none of the delay has anything to do with this story, or my lack of excitement about finishing it. In fact, over the past week I have become more and more like my Therese - post-its everywhere... My ideas are there, the time has just not been! Things are going to be hectic for me for a while - I so hope you will stick with me! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3  
> CG


	27. "Life begins on the other side of despair"

**Chapter 27: “Life begins on the other side of despair.”**

~ Jean Paul Sartre

 

**_December, 2017_ **

> _ “I have noticed that, if you look carefully at people’s eyes, the first five seconds they look at you, the truth of their feelings will shine through, for just an instant before it flickers away.”  _
> 
> _ ~ Sue Monk Kidd _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.”  _
> 
> _ ~ Nietzsche  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “A guilty conscious needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.” _
> 
> _ ~ Camus  _

~***~

Gen and Abby scurried around frantically after Therese gave them permission to add the paintings to the collection. The five easels were disassembled and the canvases hung in the back gallery, along with some of Carol’s other minor, smaller pieces. Phil generously donated several large glass pieces, which were displayed in the center of the large sculpture gallery. The way the show had been set up left very few corners good for hiding. Gen and Abby huddled together near one of the glass pieces, trying to figure out where to stash Therese before Carol arrived. 

“Ok, if Carol sees her the minute she walks in the door she’s going to flip her shit.” Gen was mumbling, cigarette hanging from her lips, rifling through her pockets for a lighter. Abby ripped the cigarette from her mouth and stashed it behind the shorter woman’s ear, like a pencil. 

“Focus!” Abby said. “We don’t have much time to figure this out. I’m also worried about how Therese will react when she sees Carol. I think we’ve been around her too much, it’s so hard to tell, but… my God.” Gen nodded her head somberly as Abby continued; “She looks like a cancer patient, or someone who survived internment in a concentration camp.” 

Gen’s brow furrowed with worry. “You’ve seen her much more frequently than I have recently, Abby. When you two came to the studio last month, I was shocked. Is she sick?” 

Abby shook her head. “No,” she said. “She just doesn’t eat. She smokes three packs a day and drinks like a fish. So, sick in the head, maybe.” 

Gen chuckled, and the mood lightened. “She’s too sad. That does things to a person, living with that kind of sadness for that long. She was way too sad for me, and that’s saying something. I can’t fuck sad people.” 

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Therese’s voice came suddenly from behind them, and both Gen and Abby jumped in surprise, Abby’s arm flung wildly into Phil’s glass piece and sent it teetering on its pedestal. With cat-like reflexes, Genevieve reached up and caught it just as it started its frightening descent to the ground. They both looked up quickly at Therese, who stood shell-shocked, her mouth gaping open. Then she started laughing. Then they all started laughing. 

“We all deserve a drink, before this shindig gets started,” Gen said. Therese and Abby followed her to the bar and graciously accepted a healthy pour of Carol’s own reserve bourbon. They sipped silently for a moment, until Gen could stand it no longer and broke the silence. “Ok, Therese. Be honest. How much of that did you hear?” 

Therese giggled again, which put both of the other women somewhat at ease. “I heard enough to realize you and Carol… again.” Gen looked down at the floor and Abby just shook her head. “Gen,” Therese said softly, moving to place a light hand on her shoulder. “I meant it when I said I was glad to hear it. I… I was with someone too. For a while. Then it changed. It changes. I know I did whatever I could to try to forget about Carol, and I would never blame her for doing the same to try to forget about me.” 

Gen looked up at Therese with clear eyes. “She never forgot about you Therese, never. She has never stopped loving you.”  

Now it was Therese’s turn to hang her head. “I know,” she said. “And I’ve never stopped loving her. No matter how many things I tried, no matter how hard I wished it. She’s my home, too.” 

Abby put a hand to her face. “Stop it,” she said. “I can’t do sappy right now, we have to, I don’t know, sing the fight song or something. I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to piss my pants.”  

Therese didn’t laugh this time, and her face was still somber. “That doesn’t mean this is going to magically bring us back together, you guys. It’s one show, one night. That doesn’t erase six years of feeling really shitty most of the time.” 

Gen chimed in. “I know,” she said. “I know it doesn’t change the fact that Carol was a total asshole to you. I can’t even believe you’re here. You’re doing a good thing, Therese.” 

Therese suddenly wanted to clarify. She felt like all the air had been once again sucked out of the room when she made that last qualifying statement. She wanted to tell them that none of that mattered. Despite the pain during the past six years, those years also contained all the happiest moments of her entire life. She started to wonder if she had been wrong about her mission in coming to the show tonight - to try to get closure and go back to D.C finally free from Carol. She started to wonder if maybe, just maybe - she and Carol could be together again. 

She tried to clear the thought from her mind and took another large swig of her bourbon. She couldn’t think about that. She didn’t even know what that would look like now, after all that had happened, after so much time apart. They had been apart as long as they were together - and even during their time together they were mostly apart. The feelings she had when she was with Carol were so far away that they had lost some of their potency. Besides, how could a feeling erase all of this pain? She told herself for the last three years that it wasn’t just a feeling. It was a bond that she and Carol shared which defied all logic, all understanding. But, she had started to feel that bond weakening as more days and months ticked past. She was instead left grasping only the promise she had made to that feeling. She was left with the knowledge that she was her truest self when she was with Carol, and that self had promised she would come back. 

Gen had wandered off and was checking out the space behind a dummy wall near the back of the main gallery. “Guys, look,” she shouted, her voice echoing in the open space. “We can totally hide Therese over here. She can see Carol when she comes in, but we can plant a bunch of people on the other side of this dummy wall and Carol won’t immediately be able to see her.” Abby hurried over and Therese followed reluctantly behind. 

“I don’t understand why you have to hide me,” Therese said softly.

“Carol is going to have enough of a shock seeing those paintings here,” Abby replied. “We have to… ease her in gently. I told you she’s changed. She’s fragile, Therese.” 

Therese nodded. She held her drink tightly and huddled into what would be her hideout for at least the next half hour or so. Gen laughed at her. “You don’t need to stand there right yet. Maybe walk around until the doors open or something? You’re making me even more nervous.”

“Yeah,” Abby chimed in. “Something about ‘never putting baby in the corner’ comes to mind.” All three women laughed, tension leaking from their bodies like radiant heat. 

~***~

Carol looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. There was no good outfit to hide her cachectic frame. Even her most form-fitting suit jacket sagged around her midsection, obscuring her profile and making her look like a long stick. She still had to have some curves in there, somewhere. She ditched the jacket and looked at herself again in profile. The white tailored shirt seemed to swallow her whole without the contrast of the jacket. She was just fucked. 

“Mom, you look great; stop worrying.” Rindy’s voice came from behind her, and she jumped a little. Rindy’s new wheelchair was very quiet, thus making it easy for her to sneak up on people, and Carol still hadn’t acclimated to it. “I would kill to be as skinny as you, Mom.” Carol’s eyes widened and she turned quickly to face her daughter. She squatted down so she was eye-level with Rindy in her chair. 

“Don’t you dare say that ever again. Don’t you even think it. This isn’t healthy, the way I am.” She brushed the hair from Rindy’s forehead. “I’m going to try to get better, though. And you, my darling snowflake - you’re wonderful and perfect and extraordinary, just as you are. Please, give me at least a few more years before I have to hear this teenager bullshit.” 

Rindy giggled as her mom cursed and quipped back at her, without pause. “You need to stop smoking so much too. You should add that to the list.” 

Carol smiled from ear to ear. “I don’t know where you get this attitude from, I really don’t.” 

~***~

There was really no preparing Therese for the emotions she felt as she stood huddled in that corner. She was not prepared to see how Carol had changed. She had ran that word over and over in her mind for the past weeks - “changed.” She had replayed it, in both Abby and Gen’s voices, until it became distorted and meaningless. Therese was changed as well. She felt as if she had been nicked and cut by Carol six years ago, and had been slowly bleeding out ever since. 

The gallery started to fill with people, and Therese started to get nervous. She knew Carol would be walking through the door at any minute, and she couldn’t calm the racing of her heart. She tried to look away from the door, to feign interest in the two paintings she had been standing in front of for a half hour, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the threshold. She squinted to try to see through the glass to the street in front of the studio, desperate for any additional seconds of a visual of Carol. 

She was torn from her nervous thoughts by a light tap on her shoulder. Abby sneaked into the corner with her. “She’ll be here in 10 minutes,” Abby whispered. 

“Ok, the play-by-play isn’t really helping my anxiety levels.” Therese hugged herself, as if she were freezing. 

“I just thought you would want to be prepared!” Abby was taken aback by Therese’s biting tone. 

“I don’t think there is any way to prepare for this,” Therese said. “I feel like I’m going to vomit.” 

Abby laughed. “Well, Carol puked at the last show you both attended, so it would only be fair.” 

“None of this is  _ fair _ , Abby.” Therese shivered a little, her carefully constructed facade beginning to slip and crumble. “It wouldn’t have been this bad if I had just come back, like I had promised her. I was too late.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Abby’s voice was low, calming. “It’s not too late. And you couldn’t have prevented or changed anything that happened. Carol needed time to wrestle with her own demons.” Abby paused, unsure whether her next question would be crossing a line. “Did you really think about coming back?”

Therese snickered. “Every day,” she said. “Every day, at least once a day. I never knew I would hurt this way, when I was the one who left. I was the one who walked away. But it was like I was walking away from my own heart. Her absence was tangible, like a storm cloud that followed me around for three years - the presence of absence.” Therese paused, wishing she was wearing a sweatshirt she could wipe her nose on, instead of the constricting dress. Abby was silent and let the girl ramble, her own anxiety rising hot in her throat. “I had these terrible dreams.” Therese’s voice was now a whisper - a confession. “But one night was different. I dreamt I could see Carol from behind the glass again, but this time she was hurt, bleeding. She was lying there - and I couldn’t get to her.” Abby’s eyes flickered with recognition and she dreaded hearing Therese acknowledge it. 

“Then that actually  _ happened _ , Abby.” The words felt funny as they left Therese’s mouth. She had not had the time to process the piercing clarity and prophecy of her dream. “That happened, and I wasn’t here. I don’t know why I didn’t trust that feeling.” She was trembling now, and Abby put a strong arm around her shoulders. Therese took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to steady herself. She was just about to continue spouting her confession to Abby when the door to the studio opened and Carol walked inside. 

~***~

Therese was happy that Abby was standing next to her, because she nearly crumbled against the older woman as she stared at Carol and her brain struggled to reconcile the collision of new inputs and old emotions. Gen and Abby were right about Carol being changed. Carol was physically changed. Despite a clever attempt to disguise her thinning frame in an oversized blazer, her sunken cheekbones and angular, jutting hips betrayed her. She wore her hair shorter, in a messy bob. Her colorful glasses frames and heavy concealer did little to hide the darkened circles under her eyes. But her eyes - they were the same; the blue of them, the pull of them. Therese held a hand to her face to muffle her gasp. 

Her heart was further punctured as she saw Rindy enter the studio after her mother; strong, muscular arms wheeling herself in her chair. Rindy was so beautiful, Therese thought. For a brief moment, her thoughts flickered to Harge. She was glad he was in prison, because otherwise she felt the sudden urge to hunt him down and strangle him with her bare hands. 

“I have to go, Therese.” Abby whispered. “She’ll be looking for me straight away. Take your time. And remember, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do this if it’s too much.”

Therese smiled, genuinely thankful for Abby’s sincerity. “Not a chance I’m leaving, Abby.” Her own voice sounded distant to her ears. She felt suspended; torn between wanting to run to Carol and wanting to run away; flee back to D.C and curl up in her bed and weep. And then, Carol flashed her signature smile at Abby as she walked towards her, and as Therese watched, her heart welled up into her throat. “Not a chance,” she whispered to no one.

~***~

> _ “When she is quiet there is a reason. She is sorting through all the chaos in her head, and all the madness in her heart.” _
> 
> _ ~ L.L.K. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “She’s proof that you can walk through hell and still be an angel.”  _
> 
> _ ~ r.h. Sin _

_ ~***~ _

Carol entered the studio full of hope. She was so proud of her daughter and her friends for pulling this off. She hoped Rindy would be satisfied with the turnout and the money they made to support the research foundation for spinal cord injuries. She knew they probably could have made more money if she had agreed to auction off her paintings of Therese, as they were arguably the best work she had done recently, if not in her whole career. But she had made a promise to Therese - she would never show or sell any paintings of her without asking her first. And Carol was too afraid to ask her. She was too afraid to contact her, and she was definitely too afraid to see her. No retrospective analysis of her reasoning would change anything now. She would just have to put the paintings away until she developed the courage to do what she should have done a year ago - go to Therese in D.C. 

The sixth painting in the series was special. It was intimate. It depicted Carol as well as Therese; the two lovers locked in a passionate embrace. It was erotic, and sensual, and very, very private. It hadn’t been finished when she initially sent the canvases to Gen. When she and Abby went back to the studio, Carol had taken that painting back home with her to complete it. It now hung in her office on the wall space that used to be occupied by Therese’s essays. Her current MFA students didn’t know who Therese was, so she felt safe having it there. She also didn’t really care what anyone thought about it. Therese had said once while they were making love that she wished Carol would paint them like that. She could keep at least that one promise she had made. She didn’t know how Therese would feel about the painting now, but that wasn’t going to stop her from giving it to her… someday. 

Her eyes flicked around the room and landed quickly on Abby, who was rushing towards her with a nervous stare. “What is it, Abby? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Carol smiled at her, feigning an air of nonchalance which she hardly felt. Carol was still very nervous about this show and the turnout, but she didn’t want to convey that feeling around Rindy. 

“I guess I have seen a ghost, in a way.” Abby responded, somberly, before quickly changing the subject. “How do you like the setup? Gen and Phil worked really hard on it.” Abby was hoping Carol would see the paintings of Therese sooner rather than later, and they could move past the awkward part where Abby and Gen were yelled at. Abby was sure there would be yelling. 

Carols eyes scanned the room and her smile dropped as she spotted the paintings in the far gallery. She tilted her head to the side as she gazed at them, incredulous that she was really seeing them. She pointed, and diverted her gaze back to Abby, blue eyes piercing through her friend like lasers. “What the fuck are those doing here, Abigail?” She spit a little as she spoke. “I told you, I promised Therese I would never show anything of her without asking her permission first.” 

Abby sighed deeply and put her arm around Carol’s shoulders. Carol initially winced and tried to pull away, but Abby pulled her tighter to her and whispered in her friend’s ear. “Let’s go back there, where we can talk for a second, ok?” Carol just shook her head at Abby with disapproval, but she did follow her. 

Abby and Carol joined Gen next to the first painting in the series. Gen was absorbed in the work before her, the outside world and the fact that a show was starting were completely lost on Gen. She was started to hear Carol’s deep voice behind her, causing her to jump. “What the actual fuck, Genevieve?” Carol’s tone was biting and accusatory. Gen wheeled around to face them, a look of sadness in her eyes. 

“Well, I guess Abby decided on the plan of pointing these out to you early on, which I strongly opposed. But, uh - hi Carol, welcome!” Carol punched Gen in the arm, and not lightly. “Ouch, Jesus Carol!” 

“Oh shut up, I know you like it rough,” Carol bit back. 

“Well not if we’re not in bed, darling.” Gen winked at her, desperately trying to insert humor and dial down the tension in the room, which was palpable and sweltering. 

“She has now called us both by our full names in the space of two minutes, Gen.” Abby piped up. “This is a bad sign.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up and someone start explaining why these paintings are here.” Carol was not amused. 

Abby took the lead and Gen physically cowered behind her. “We talked to Therese.” Abby’s voice was tender, soft. Gen took another step behind Abby as she continued. “I won’t apologize for it. I felt strongly that these paintings needed to be seen. They’re wonderful, Carol. Therese agreed to allow us to show them. We should have asked you, but… well it seemed like a better idea to stick to the old adage of asking for forgiveness instead of permission, in this case.” 

Carol’s heart and mind were racing, and beads of sweat had formed on her lip and brow. She had gone silent, and the other two women were starting to become concerned. Gen was now standing almost completely behind Abby and cowering. “What did you say to her, Abby?” Carol’s voice was quivering and unstable. 

Abby knew it was time to tell Carol the truth, but she was also suddenly frozen in place, afraid of how best to phrase it. She should have thought it through more, but she had never been good at these sorts of things. It was Gen who spoke up, after the silence drove her to insanity. “We both talked to her, Carol.” Gen’s voice came out much stronger and more deliberate than she felt. “We told her about the paintings, we told her about everything that had happened, and we begged her to come to New York.” She paused, and gulped. “There. I said it. It’s out there. Please don’t murder us, Carol. We were doing what we thought was right. Actually, I know it was right. I know that for sure now.” Abby’s eyes had progressively widened as Gen proceeded with their confession, and her stomach had dropped into her shoes. 

Neither Gen nor Abby could read Carol’s face; her eyes had turned cold and dark and she was starting past them at the paintings. When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft both Gen and Abby had to lean forward to hear her. “What did she… how is she?” 

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. This response was already markedly better than expected. “She uh, she’s ok I guess.” 

Gen stepped out from behind Abby and was shaking her head furiously. “No she isn’t,” she said.

It was Abby’s turn to land a solid punch to Gen’s arm. “Ouch!” Gen exclaimed. “Would you bitches stop punching me? And am I the only one who is willing to speak the fucking truth here? Of course Therese isn’t ok, Carol. She’s not been ok for three years. And neither have you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Gen felt a little twinge of regret as the biting remarks left her lips. She didn’t want to push Carol over the edge. 

“I don’t know, I just thought - I hoped she was ok. She wasn’t angry, about the paintings? I can’t believe you actually asked her to come to New York.” Carol paused, wringing her hands. Her eye twitched nervously. She was silent until her burning curiosity got the better of her. “What did she say when you asked her to come here?” Carol’s racing mind was thinking of questions faster than her mouth could spew them out. 

“I said yes.” 

The blonde woman froze, and a heat like wildfire raced up and down her spine. Her skin wrinkled into goosebumps, hairs stood on end.  _ Therese.  _ She turned around quickly and her blue eyes widened like saucers. A hand shot out instinctively to steady herself against Abby’s arm. 

Carol’s blue eyes found Therese’s green ones for the first time in three years, and the entire room seemed to darken and fade away. Carol allowed her gaze to rake up and down Therese’s frame, startled and amazed by her. Her eyes shot back up to meet Therese’s and the same familiar warmth spread through her again, coming now in waves. She felt paralyzed. Everything she had ever wanted was again standing right in front of her. 

“My angel.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of the cleanest I've posted in terms of early versions - and you all have Pentimento to thank for that - so....go on, thank her ;) 
> 
> Also to P - thanks for the ongoing inspiration. ;) 
> 
> Can't wait to hear your thoughts, dear readers! 
> 
> <3 CG


	28. Wine and Children

**Chapter 28: Wine and Children**

**_December, 2017_ **

 

> _ “I don’t know what to say to you, except that it tore my heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.”  _
> 
> _ ~ Vita Sackville-West  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “There is truth in wine and children”  _
> 
> _ ~ Plato  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “You’re still the love of my life. Should I tell you that?” _
> 
> _ ~ Knight of Cups _

 

Abby and Gen each took two giant steps back when they heard Therese’s words. Carol’s eyes were still wide, as if she wasn’t believing what she was seeing - as if Therese was just a hallucination. No one spoke for a moment, and all four women seemed to hold their breath. Abby placed a gentle hand on Genevieve’s back and ushered the two of them out of the small area of the studio. As their friends left, Carol and Therese felt the space suddenly shrink around them, bringing them closer together without either woman moving. 

Therese waited, frozen in place. She was trying to keep her shoulders still because she was still breathing heavily, as if she had just run a race. Carol’s brow furrowed as she tried to search for the words to say. Carol was a writer, and yet her words were failing her. “You came back,” she whispered, her voice choked and reserved. 

“Yes,” Therese whispered back. “Of course.” 

Carol shivered a little at the sound of Therese’s voice, the warm tones entering her ears and sending warm tendrils down her spine. Her voice still dripped with reluctance, with an edge of fear. She was still so scared she would blink and Therese would be gone. “What did Gen and Abby say, I mean… what did they tell you, to get you to come?”

Therese smiled, those dimples surfacing again and pulling like a loose thread at the edges of Carol’s heart. “It wasn’t anything they said, Carol. I promised you. I promised you I’d find my way back to you. I just… I just didn’t know how - until now. And now, seeing you - I should have come back so much sooner.” 

Carol dropped her head to her chest, no longer able to hold back her tears, her overwhelming emotion. She didn’t want to make Therese even more uncomfortable. She knew this didn’t mean Therese was back for good, it didn’t even mean she would see her again after this night. But she had this night. She had this chance. “You saw your paintings?” Carol asked, timidly. 

“I did,” Therese answered, simply. “They’re magnificent, Carol.” 

Carol exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She had been scared Therese would hate them, or resent Carol for painting her without her permission. Therese was the only critic that mattered. If it wasn’t for Rindy’s fundraising goal she would shut down the whole show right here, right now, and kick everyone out except Therese. She just wanted to stare at her, to touch her cheek. She just wanted to be in the same space as Therese and breathe her in. Carol was overwhelmed and a wave of nausea and dizziness crept up on her, causing her to break into a cold sweat. She removed her glasses and rubbed her temples, temporarily shielding her eyes from the harsh lights that seemed suddenly blinding. 

Therese’s voice was stronger now, betraying her fear and uncertainty. “Carol, when did you take the photographs you worked from? I never saw you with a camera. The detail, it’s exquisite.” 

“No photos darling,” Carol tapped a finger against her temple. “All from here. From my memory. My memory of you is more detailed than any photograph could ever be, and it’s there every time I close my eyes; a constant reference.” She squinted her eyes then, as if she was trying to see through Therese’s skin and into her soul. 

“What is it?” Therese asked, noticing the change in Carol’s gaze, the inquisitive stare. 

“You’ve changed from the picture in my mind,” Carol said. “I know it’s an art show and all, but I somehow expected that if I ever were to see you again, you’d be wearing those same godforsaken tattered jeans.” Therese’s lip turned into a half smile and Carol breathed easier for a moment. She couldn’t find the words to describe the way seeing Therese had assaulted all of her senses, shook her to her bones. “You’re breathtaking,” she said. It was simple. It was the truth. And, just like that, the air was sucked out of the room again. 

Therese closed her own eyes as she took it all in. Her fervent hope that she had nursed all this time was true. Carol had not forgotten her, quite the opposite. It was no longer just lip service through Gen and Abby. Through all the pain, everything that Carol had endured these past three years, she still remembered Therese. She still thought of Therese. She painted her from memory, in exquisite detail. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a big leap to believe she still loved her, too. The chasm between them which had been growing deeper and larger stopped expanding dead in its tracks as Therese opened her eyes and found Carol’s gaze, both women desperate to bridge that gap once more. 

Therese’s brain was fighting madly against her heart and she felt torn in two as the battle waged inside of her. Carol stood there in silence, watching it all, as if she knew exactly what was happening. This wasn’t ever supposed to be like this. Her brain said if Carol had wanted her she would have come to her, even before the accident. But then her heart leapt back with a rebuttal: Carol wasn’t truly free, not until after the accident, not until now. 

Carol saw the tension rising in the younger woman’s body and she knew she was actively battling her own demons, her own insecurities. She wasn’t naive enough to think Therese had simply been waiting for this moment, that she hadn’t had a life for three years, rife with other struggles…with other lovers. That thought, of someone else’s hands on Therese, someone else’s mouth on Therese, it brought hot bile raging up her throat and she balled her fists tighter against her sides.

Moments slipped by that felt like hours as both woman stood staring at each other. Carol finally took a step forward, but Therese held out her hand to halt her. “Don’t,” she whispered. Carol took two steps back and lowered her head with shame. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol said. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” 

Therese swallowed hard, almost audibly. “It’s just… I’m unraveling right here in public, Carol. Seeing you, hearing what has happened; I’m… I’m trying to… cope. And if you put your hands on me, I won’t be able to do that. If you touch me I won’t be able to think.” 

“Ok, it’s ok.” Carol’s voice was like a warm balm, like she was trying to soothe a frightened animal. Carol’s mind was racing. She had simply intended to embrace her, but now Therese’s words were ricocheting in Carol’s mind. Now all Carol wanted to do was put her hands on Therese, to put her hands  _ all over  _ Therese. She wanted her skin on her fingertips, she wanted to trace her lips with her thumb, she wanted to run the back of her hand down Therese’s spine past the spot where she would always jump because it tickled. The fire that started the moment she saw the younger woman was now raging wild. 

“Therese, is that you?” 

Both women literally jumped at the sound of Rindy’s voice. They hadn’t seen her coming; they couldn’t see her over the dummy wall due to her seated position in the wheelchair. Carol’s hand flew to her mouth and she was suddenly ripped back into reality like she had taken a dive into freezing cold water. Carol had now been surprised by voices behind her twice in the span of ten minutes, and her heart was racing so quickly she thought she may pass out. Rindy was so perceptive. She would know something was wrong. The agonizing toll of the brief conversation was probably written all over Carol’s face, and Therese had turned white as a sheet when she heard her name. 

Therese plastered on a huge smile and squatted down to greet Rindy as she approached. She embraced the young girl with a tenderness that crushed Carol’s heart to witness it. Carol suddenly saw flashes of what her life could have been… what her family could have been. 

“Rindy, you’ve grown up so much!” Therese exclaimed. “You’re practically a young woman now!” 

“How can you tell I’ve grown? I’ve shrunk quite a bit if you think about it.” Rindy’s sarcastic tone was an exact mimic of her mother’s. 

Therese didn’t take the bait. “I don’t buy that act for a second, girl. Look at you. You’re gorgeous.” She bent and kissed Rindy on the cheek, and Carol’s hand went to her chest to try to dull the physical ache that rose up while watching the exchange. “I hear you were the mastermind behind this show, Rindy.” Therese poked the girl in the arm. “You should be really proud. I know your mom is proud of your generous heart.” 

“Thanks,” Rindy replied, blushing. As the girl’s cheeks flooded with pink, all Therese could see was Carol. Rindy was the spitting image of her mother. 

Carol felt as though her feet were glued to the floor, but she also saw an opportunity to extract herself. She desperately needed to talk up the big donors if the night was going to be the success Rindy was hoping for. “Can I leave you two alone for a moment? I need to go make us some money.” Therese snapped back to attention, the smile leaving her face quickly, melting back into a look of frenzied confusion. 

“Of course, Carol. Go, work your magic.” As the words came out, Therese was pleasantly surprised that they sounded much more assertive than she felt. She was once again torn in two by conflicting emotions. She wanted Carol to stay, she wanted them both to keep standing there forever. Part of her felt like if Carol walked away again, the mere loss of sight of her would be crippling - a final knockout blow. But she was also eager for a moment to regroup, to collect her thoughts, to steady her pattering heart threatening to burst through her chest. 

Carol winked at her and turned away. Therese didn’t realize she was still watching her walk away until Rindy pulled her back to reality. Rindy waved a hand in front of Therese’s face. “Hello, earth to Therese?!” Therese snapped her head back to attention. Ordinarily, she would be concerned about appearances, about the implications of her obviously wanton stare as Carol retreated. But today, she couldn’t muster the strength to fight it. She could barely muster the courage to face her own emotions, let alone finely tune them for the viewing public - even if that viewing public included Rindy. 

“Sorry, Rindy,” she said softly. “I just - I have a lot on my mind and I’ve been a total space cadet lately. Did you say something?”

“A lot on your mind, huh?” This little girl would just not quit. “By ‘a lot,’ do you really just mean ‘my mom’?” Rindy had clearly mastered the sarcastic use of air quotes at the ripe age of eleven. Maybe she was a budding writer as well as a painter, just like her mom. Therese was floored. She had no idea to respond to this unexpected inquiry. Rindy had nailed it. But how did she know? What did she know?

Therese opened her mouth to reply but could only stammer. She couldn’t even form proper English words, let alone sentences. “I uh…what do you mean, Rindy?” 

“Oh my god, you’re hopeless,” Rindy said, shaking her head disapprovingly. Therese was being chastised by an eleven-year-old. Rindy carried on, unperturbed by Therese’s shocked stare. “Please tell me you’ve been thinking about her. Please, at least tell me you thought about her at all. Otherwise, all this would be so pointless.” 

Therese’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Of course I’ve thought of her. But I only learned about your accident today. I didn’t know what all had happened… I’m so sorry, Rindy.” Therese could tell by Rindy’s confused stare that she clearly hadn’t been referring to the accident. 

“What the hell are you talking about, dude?” Rindy’s use of profanity went completely unnoticed, Therese was so on edge. “I’m not talking about the accident, I’m just talking in general. Since you left, like… did you miss her?” 

“God, yes.” The words escaped Therese’s lips before she had a chance to cage them. Her defenses had been dismantled. Rindy’s lips curled into a smirk, another gesture singularly identifying her as Carol’s daughter. “I mean, of course. Of course, I missed her.” Therese was rambling now. This was not going well. “She was a very important teacher to me, you know?” 

“Cat’s out of the bag now, Therese. You missed her. This is great news.” Now it was Therese’s turn to be perplexed. What on earth was Rindy getting at?

“Great news? Because I missed her? That seems … harsh.” Therese still wasn’t filtering her words properly. Rindy was eleven, she wasn’t some criminal mastermind with ulterior motives. She tried to take a few deep, cleansing breaths to steady herself before she faced more questioning from the world’s youngest prosecuting attorney. 

“Yeah, because at least then all the pain my mom went through would be worth something in the end. Like, maybe all the crying and stuff won’t just be … wasted.” Therese was struck speechless once again. She narrowed her eyes and just started at Rindy, her mind reeling. More than a few silent moments passed, and suddenly Rindy was once again waving her hand in Therese’s face to regain her attention. “Therese. You do know she’s in love with you, right?” 

Finally, Therese was shocked back to reality. “How did you  - what did your mother tell you?” Her voice was shaky, uncertain. 

“Are you kidding?” Rindy laughed, a deep hearty chuckle that again sent shockwaves through Therese’s memory bank. “She told me nothing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out though. Dude, she painted you like a hundred million times.” 

Therese laughed. Tension seemed to be lifting. Rindy was trying to play matchmaker. Therese no longer felt terrified by the line of questioning, and she again squatted so she was eye level with the little girl - or, rather, not so little girl. “I’m in love with her, too.” It was so simple, just the naked truth. As the words came out, Therese realized she hadn’t really uttered them out loud in the present tense in quite some time. It felt good. The truth felt good. 

“Good,” Rindy stated, simply. Her lighthearted tone had taken on a new, more solemn note. Therese was surprised to see her upper lip quiver slightly and her nose flare. It was the same gesture Carol had made the night Therese left. It was the gesture Carol made when she was holding back tears, trying to be strong. Therese reacted quickly, moving a hand to Rindy’s cheek. 

“What is it, Rindy?” A single tear slipped down the girl’s cheek and she swatted it away with her shirt sleeve. 

“You have to help her, Therese.” More tears started to fall. “Please.” 

Therese moved to the side of the wheelchair and put both arms around the girl’s shoulders, bringing her into a tight hug. “I’m going to try, Rindy. I promise.”

 


	29. Two Promises

**Chapter 29: Two Promises**

**_December, 2017_ **

 

> _ “Half of me is missing, and what’s left is missing you.”  _
> 
> _ ~ Ranata Suzuki  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “I think you travel to search and you come back home to find yourself there.”  _
> 
> _ ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie _

~***~

Gen and Abby watched Carol, Rindy, and Therese from behind the bar. They were alternating holding their breath and breathing very shallowly, as if they could somehow disturb the scene from a hundred feet away. When Carol walked away, Abby bent herself nearly in half trying to see over the bar to where Therese had kneeled in front of Rindy’s wheelchair. Gen smacked her in the arm. “I can’t see!” She exclaimed.

Abby smacked her right back. “There’s nothing to see, you nitwit. Carol walked away, and now Therese is talking to Rindy. We have to find out where Carol went, I don’t see her at all. Was she ok? Did she look ok?”

“I just told you I couldn’t see anything!” Gen’s voice had raised in pitch. 

“There.” Abby pointed towards the opposite corner of the room near the large, most expensive paintings. Carol was chatting with Benjamin DuBois, a wealthy architect and fellow professor at Columbia. 

Gen craned her neck to try to see, as she was much shorter than Abby. “She looks ok,” she said. “She’s talking to DuBois though, who is legitimately one of the most boring men on the planet, so maybe she’s just numb right now. She seems to be gesturing normally. Can you read lips?” Abby cuffed her again on the arm, harder this time. “Ok,” Gen shrieked. “Seriously! What’s with the hitting? You know, Abigail, if you want to go down that road again we could go upstairs…” Gen quickly maneuvered away this time before another punch could land on her shoulder. 

~***~

Carol tried to focus her efforts on selling artwork, but she could barely keep her eyes off Therese, let alone her mind. She felt that if she lost sight of her, Therese might slip out of her grasp and they would be ripped apart again, like ships passing in the night. She didn’t have enough time to tell Therese all the things she had wanted to say, and her moment of shock at seeing her here had cost her precious minutes. She honestly didn’t know if a lifetime was enough time, let alone one night.

She glanced over toward the bar and saw her two friends eyeing her. Gen was draped over the bar and using Abby’s shoulder as leverage. Carol laughed. They were not subtle. She felt a surge of warmth course through her chilled frame. These two women, both of whom were once heartbroken over Carol, had just given her the most amazing gift. She didn’t know if she could ever repay them. She tried not to think about what it had cost them. She also tried not to think about what it had cost Therese to be here - just to show up, but then to see Carol this way. She opened her blazer more loosely across her concave abdomen, and bloused the shirt out a bit more over her protruding hip bones. 

Carol fought back tears yet again as she watched Therese interact with Rindy over Benjamin’s shoulder. Therese had kneeled down in front of Rindy’s chair again, and Carol’s heart felt like it was doing somersaults in her chest. She couldn’t help but allow her mind to flood with images of the three of them - herself with Rindy and Therese. Her eyes glazed over and she could see the three of them in Central Park; Rindy trying to feed the squirrels while Carol and Therese snuck in lingering kisses behind her back. 

Suddenly Carol shook her head. Benjamin looked up from his glass with concern. “Are you alright, Dr. Aird?” he asked with genuine concern. “You’ve been silent for a few moments.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” she mumbled. “I just, I need to go do something.” She walked away quickly, heading in a detour towards the bar. She wasn’t going to waste another second talking to fucking Benjamin DuBois. She suddenly didn’t care one iota if the paintings sold. She would leverage the money from the apartment or her studio and pay her parents back somehow. She wasn’t going to let Therese out of speaking distance again until she told her what she needed to say. She suddenly wished she had prepared a speech. Her hands felt cold and clammy like an actor who didn’t remember her lines. 

Gen and Abby saw Carol walking towards them and straightened up like teenagers who had been caught smoking. “Are you ok, Carol?” Abby walked towards her and placed a calming hand on her back. 

“I can’t believe you guys did this,” Carol said, her voice quiet. 

Abby and Gen exchanged more worried glances. Neither could read Carol’s expression. Was she happy, or angry? Abby spoke what they both were thinking. “You’re not yelling, Carol. Does this mean we aren’t in the doghouse over this?” 

Carol chuckled. It was her normal laugh, and it seemed to instantly fill the space with warmth. “On the contrary. I was just thinking how I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you my gratitude. Nothing anyone has ever done for me has mattered more than you orchestrating this. Now I just need to figure out how not to fuck it up.” 

Gen exhaled audibly, a sigh of relief. “Jesus. Ok. We were nervous. But now I’m really glad Abby followed along with my idea."

“It was my idea!” Abby quipped. 

Gen laughed. “I’m kidding. It was. It was her idea.”

“Shut up, both of you, and pour me some liquid courage,” Carol said. 

~***~

Carol looked frantically for Therese for several minutes, trying to push away the nagging worry that maybe she had left without saying goodbye. When she spotted the brunette standing in the corner looking at her paintings, Carol’s heart surged like a tide bidden by the moon. Therese was her only moon, her only light. She smiled to herself. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Therese was here.

Therese felt Carol coming without seeing her. The same sixth sense she always had about Carol’s presence was still intact. She turned to face her and Carol’s face lit up. 

“I thought you might have left,” Carol said, quietly.

“Of course I didn’t leave. I had so much fun chatting with Rindy. She’s hilarious. That dry, wicked sense of humor - I wonder where she gets that?” Therese smiled, her dimples popping into clear view and sending a tremor through Carol’s chest. 

“I need to show you something,” Carol blurted, suddenly. She had a whole speech planned, but she was too nervous to get through it. 

“Sure,” Therese said. “I’ll follow you.” 

“It’s not here, not at the show I mean,” Carol replied. “It’s… it’s in my office.”

Therese’s smile quickly faded. “I”m not sure that’s a good idea, Carol.” Therese could sense the shivers approaching; she felt like ice had been injected into her veins. She could barely keep her wits about her now. She could barely prevent her legs from running towards Carol, her arms from holding her, her lips from finding Carol’s. And this was a public place. She couldn’t imagine what messages her body would be sending to her brain if she and Carol were in private. She didn’t have that kind of self-control, not around Carol.

“Please, Therese,” Carol pleaded. “There are six paintings in this series. It’s the last of them. I wouldn’t allow it to be in the show even if you agreed, and the girls knew that.” Therese was silent, her mind racing. “They’re all for you, Therese,” Carol continued. “But the last one is… special. It’s my gift to you. And it’s my confession.”

Therese felt legitimate trepidation. She knew she couldn’t say no to Carol. She knew how important this must be to her. She knew it must have taken all of Carol’s courage to even ask. But she was terrified of what would happen if she opened her heart to Carol again. She was terrified of feeling the same pain she went through three years ago. She didn’t know if she could survive it again. But she made not one but two promises. One to Carol, and now one to Rindy. She knew she didn’t follow through, if she left Carol here without letting Carol say what she needed to say, that she would regret it for the rest of her life.

“Ok,” Therese whispered. 

Carol smiled again. She made a move to put a hand on Therese’s shoulder, but remembered Therese’s previous reaction and quickly moved her hand back down to her side. 

~***~

> _ “Forgive my fingers, for when they find your body, they will lose themselves” _
> 
> _ ~Tyler Knott Gregson  _

Therese’s carefully constructed facade was quickly beginning to unravel. When there were others around at the show, she felt bolstered somehow - protected. Now she was sitting too close to Carol, their knees touching in the back of the car, their eyes glued to their respective windows. They both knew they had to avoid eye contact, less they erupt into flames. Therese felt the heat from Carol’s body through their legs, through her knees and the bit of thigh that was laid against Therese’s own. Therese closed her eyes and tried to calm the fluttering of her heart. She suddenly felt as though she had made a huge mistake by agreeing to go back to Carol’s office. She was crazy. This was exactly how  _ not  _ to get closure. This sort of recklessness was what got her heart into trouble in the first place. She had to face this with at least a bit of practicality. She no longer even lived in New York. Carol made a grand gesture with the paintings, but was she just being blinded by that now? Underneath it all, has anything really changed?

Therese’s heart was in her throat as they walked the familiar path to Carol’s office. Her mind was swimming with memories of the space - some lovely, some horrible. Carol unlocked the door and led them inside. When she turned on the lights, Therese’s gaze immediately fell to the painting on the wall and her eyes widened.

After a brief moment, Therese turned to look at Carol, and there were tears in her eyes. “You painted it. You painted us, making love.” 

“Yes. You asked me too, do you remem - “

“Of course I remember,” Therese cut her off. 

Therese walked closer and closer to the painting, until she was close enough to reach out and touch it. In the painting, everything was depicted exactly as it had been that night. Carol’s hair was messed and Therese’s makeup was slightly smeared over one eye. Carol had a pencil tucked behind an ear and Therese smiled as she saw it in the painting, subtly peeking out behind a blonde spiral. 

Carol watched her at first, from behind the door frame. She watched her smile erupt and as those dimples appeared on those cheeks, Carol put a hand to the doorknob to steady herself when her knees buckled. Therese closed her eyes and seemed lost in a thought, and Carol allowed her gaze to wander over Therese’s frame, to soak in the sight of her with her eyes and bottle it in her brain. 

“Carol.” 

Her name sounded like a question as it reached Carol’s ears, and it was uttered so softly that Carol wasn’t sure she had heard it at all. Perhaps she was hallucinating. All of the hairs on her body stood at attention. The air in the room seemed flat, muggy, hot - despite the cold draft oozing from the window panes. 

“Carol?”

Definitely a question this time, and Carol thought her answer and felt it on the tip of her tongue: Yes. Regardless of the words to follow, the answer was yes, Therese. “Yes,” she said out loud, and it echoed in her head - yes, yes. 

Therese was still facing the painting, her countenance hidden. Her shoulders heaved, her breathing clearly labored. Carol watched her in stunned silence, completely unsure of what the young woman was thinking or feeling. She didn’t want to interrupt. She wanted Therese to speak on her own time; on her own terms. 

“Carol, put your hands on me.” 

Not a question, but a command - an invitation. Carol let a surprised exhale sneak past pursed lips and her voice cracked slightly into a high-pitched whimper. She walked towards Therese, whose back was still turned, and she felt the heat in her core increase with every step. Her hands were balled in fists at her sides, a meager attempt to abate the trembling in her wrecked and weakened frame. She thought she could feel her own bones clattering. 

She reached Therese and put a light hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder. Therese jumped at the contact, her heart mimicking the same movement inside. Carol dipped her head and placed her cheek to the inside of Therese’s neck and inhaled. The scent of Therese instantly centered and sobered Carol, her blue eyes dilated and widened and she drew her hands up on either side of the younger woman’s neck. She traced a fingertip from each hand along the brunette’s collarbones, her touch light as a ghost. Despite only minimal contact, Therese’s heart skipped and leapt at the touch, and she arched her back to bring herself closer to Carol’s hands; to bring her neck to Carol’s lips. 

“You’re trembling,” Carol whispered, her breath hot against Therese’s neck 

Therese gasped. “Those hands…” She trailed off; her breath hitched in her chest and her throat tightened. 

Carol pressed her breasts into Therese’s back, eager to feel more contact, and her left hand wandered down from the younger woman’s collarbone to skim the side of her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. Her touch was so light and precise Therese thought at first she was just imagining it, as she had so many times before. Therese gasped and leaned her whole body into Carol’s touch. Her knees feeling suddenly weak, she placed a hand on the wall next to the painting and pressed her back into Carol to steady herself. 

Carol dropped her hand lower on Therese’s waist to help steady her as she pulled back slightly, causing the younger woman to murmur in protest from the loss of contact. Then, suddenly Carol’s hands were at the back of her neck, slowly undoing the zipper of her dress. Everything was moving in slow motion, yet Therese still felt overwhelmed, her vision blurring as she stared at their actions being mirrored in the painting in front of her.

Carol’s fingers traced a line down her spine from the crown of her head to the crease of her buttocks, following the zipper on it’s furiously slow descent. A chill followed, which sent Therese into near convulsions. She grabbed Carol’s other hand and moved it back to her breast, clutching it there as she took deep breaths.  

The dress dropped to the floor, revealing Therese’s much thinner frame to Carol’s eyes for the first time. White lace panties cupped her ass; Carol ran her fingers along the seams as if in a trance, tracing every curve, trying to re-memorize every swell and dip - every dimple, every scar. Therese’s shoulders were now visibly shaking and undulating with each shallow breath, and goosebumps had appeared on her pale flesh. 

Carol took a few steps back and Therese turned to face her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Carol whispered. 

Therese slowly raised her head to meet Carol’s gaze, and both women had tears in their eyes, the emotional toll of the reunion threatening to overcome them both. Therese took slow steps towards Carol this time. She felt bolstered by Carol’s words and warmed from the scorch of Carol’s fingers on her skin. She had never felt so sure of anything in her whole life. The cowering, scared girl Carol had once known was gone, and in her place stood a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. 

Carol reached out to cup Therese’s breast through the fabric of her matching lace bra, bringing hardened nipples to attention, but this time Therese grasped Carol’s hands and pulled them away. Therese slid her hands across Carol’s neck and down her shoulders to free her from her blazer and let it fall to the ground. She held eye contact with Carol as she slowly unbuttoned the older woman’s blouse. Carol was mesmerized by the stare - deeper and more intense than it had ever been before. She didn’t need to guide Therese. She didn’t need to encourage her. It was now Carol’s turn to shiver with anticipation as her blouse joined the blazer on the ground and Therese finally broke their gaze to appreciate Carol’s breasts. 

Carol wore a black push-up bra in a meager attempt to accentuate her breasts, which were much smaller than Therese remembered - just like the rest of Carol. Therese traced her fingers over the top of the bra, and Carol released a moan, even the slightest contact sending chills down her spine. 

Therese allowed her eyes to wander further down Carol’s body, and she couldn’t stifle a gasp. “Oh, Carol,” she whimpered. Carol’s already concave stomach was sucked in further with each heaving breath, baring her ribs as she struggled to maintain composure. Carol sighed and threw her arms across her abdomen, trying to shield herself from Therese in much the same way Therese had done their first night together. 

Therese pulled her arms away and bent over to place a kiss to Carol’s breastbone, then trailed down to pepper more kisses along each and every one of her exposed ribs. Carol’s skin was on fire, her tears falling freely when Therese finally kneeled before her and unbuckled her belt. Therese laid her hands on each of Carol’s protruding hip bones and gently lowered her pants to the ground. 

Carol was suffering from the loss of contact, and she craved Therese’s skin. She ached to have her in her mouth, to explore her body again. She reached down to pull Therese back to her feet. Their eyes locked again and Carol grabbed Therese and pulled her body towards her; a strong hand flung far behind the shorter woman’s back to bring their frames crashing together. Both women moaned at the contact, followed by a long, low sigh from Carol as Therese nuzzled into the crook of her neck, her cheek finding its home against Carol’s thudding pulse. 

They allowed their bodies to melt into one another, the heat rising from their skin to warm the whole room. Carol kissed Therese’s bottom lip softly, teasing her, drawing her in. She allowed Therese to explore her mouth with her tongue, pliant to her probing, a willing participant in her persistence. Carol finally pulled back, panting. Her lips were swollen and red. Her eyes blazed with want so intense it made her own vision blurry. 

Carol’s hungry gaze fell upon Therese’s chest, and she deftly reached a hand behind the younger woman’s back and unhooked her bra. She allowed her eyes a moment to themselves before her hands joined in, taking a nipple in between each of her thumbs and forefingers, rolling gently, pulling lightly. 

“Exquisite,” Carol mumbled, under her breath. “My hands are yours, Therese. They belong to you, and you alone. Tell me what you want.”

Therese balked at the question. Carol was not usually so open, she usually preferred to be in control at all times, to be the leader, to take what she wanted. Therese suddenly felt conflicted. What did she want? She wanted Carol. It was both as simple and as complex as that. 

The younger woman bought herself some time in answering by pressing her lips to Carol’s once more, and Carol pulled at her nipples harder as Therese bit down on Carol’s lower lip. Their tongues danced, and Carol groaned into her open mouth, her composure wavering; coming undone by the feelings that erupted from their contact. 

Therese threw an arm loosely around Carol’s lower back and started walking them back towards the couch. Therese sat down on the cool leather and spread her knees slightly apart, then gazed back up at Carol, her eyes darkened with lust. Carol caught a glimpse of the wet patch coating the younger woman’s underwear, and her mouth flooded with saliva, her nostrils flaring in anticipation. 

It was now Carol’s turn to kneel. She immediately pressed her whole face into Therese, inhaling her scent through her soaked underwear; wetness instantly dripping from her own center. The intoxicating smell pierced Carol’s brain like an electric shock, memories flooding back in waves. Carol’s lust blossomed and grew, her hunger for Therese becoming her predominant emotion, an unrelenting need her new driving force. 

Therese was thankful when Carol’s strong hands came down on her thighs, because she felt as if she was about to float away. The feeling of Carol’s hands on her skin was like a tonic. It reminded her that it didn’t matter what this had cost them. It only mattered where they ended up. And right now, at this moment, she knew she was home. 

Carol slid Therese’s panties down her thighs gently, and as blonde hair slipped out of view, Therese looked up at her painting. She forced her eyes to stay open as Carol deftly entered her with two fingers, her whole body heaving heavenwards. She felt as if her heart had suddenly leapt into her throat. 

Explosions of light flashed behind Therese’s eyes and she was forced to forget the painting when Carol’s soft mouth found her clit and enveloped it with warmth. Therese cried out, uninhibited; her head thrown back, neck and back straining. Carol removed her fingers from Therese and put both arms under her thighs. She pulled gently to help guide Therese to the rug, sliding her mouth up Therese’s body as she skillfully maneuvered the shorter woman to be directly underneath her, lying supine on the ground, open, waiting. 

Carol draped her body over Therese and propped herself up on one elbow. She gazed down at the woman lying beneath her and when their eyes met, Carol choked back a sob. Therese was immediately pulled back to reality, and she was startled by Carol’s stifled cry. 

“What is it, Carol?” 

Carol shook her head, and a slight grin appeared at the corner of her lips. Her fingers found Therese open, wet, and waiting for her still. She kissed Therese softly as she entered her again, allowing the younger woman to moan into her mouth, swallowing her breath, feeling her tongue on her own. She raked her fingers upwards, finding Therese’s swollen front wall; thumb and palm fell in place against her clit with laser precision. Carol’s hands were talented at many things, but they were made for this. 

Carol continued to move her hand but pulled her face away to look at Therese once more. The younger woman’s eyes were screwed shut and her hips were undulating more recklessly, her breathing more shallow. Carol could see her pulse thudding in her neck. 

“Look at me, Therese,” she whispered, softly. Therese opened her eyes and found Carol’s immediately, drawn as if by an invisible beacon. 

Carol felt Therese start to tighten around her fingers. She noticed her hips start to shake, her thighs clenching around Carol’s hand. Carol put all her weight on her elbow and moved her other hand to cup Therese’s cheek. 

“I love you, Therese.” 

A low moan came from the woman below her. Carol immediately quickened her pace and Therese began to crumble apart, quivering and sputtering as she tried to speak. Carol pressed her face against Therese’s and whispered against her mouth as Therese came undone, a mantra which lifted Therese into the sky. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

 


	30. Be Not The Slave Of Your Own Past

**Chapter 30: Be Not The Slave Of Your Own Past**

**_December, 2017_ **  

> _“Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep, and swim far, so you shall come back with new self-respect, with new power, and with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the past.”_
> 
> _~ Ralph Waldo Emerson_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Nothing important happens in life without a cost.”_
> 
> _~ Jacqueline Novogratz_

~***~

Therese opened her eyes slowly. Light was flooding into Carol’s bedroom and reflecting off the bright white duvet. A smile erupted on her face as she remembered the previous evening. Carol told her she loved her. Carol painted them, together. Carol suggested they go back to her place. Carol moved back into the master bedroom. Carol made love to her on this bed, in her home. Carol. Carol.

She turned her head away from the window to face her. The blonde woman was sleeping soundly, her lips releasing a soft “puff’ with each exhale. One breast and one leg exposed, the sheet was draped lazily over her other half. Therese soaked in the sight of her then closed her eyes tightly, committing the entire scene to memory.

A sliver of worry dug its way into Therese’s brain and demanded to be acknowledged. She obviously missed her flight. Twelve hours ago, this scenario would have seemed impossible. Now, twelve hours ago seemed like a different lifetime. Now, looking at Carol sleeping beside her, she didn’t think anyone could pay her enough to leave this bed. This was different than before. This was… new. Her brain had no further excuses to give, and it returned to the altar of her heart - empty and fading.

But what did Carol feel? How high were Carol’s walls still erected? Would Carol let her touch her, let her taste her? Would Carol crumble to her as she had to Carol - shattered so many times, like a seashell against the shore? When Therese’s eyes fluttered open, Carol was staring up at her, worry etched in her brow. Therese glanced the back of her fingers along the flesh of Carol’s exposed breast, and the furrow in the older woman’s brow slowly dissipated.

Therese turned her hand over lightly and took Carol’s nipple in her fingers, squeezing gently. Carol flinched and shrugged the sheet over the rest of her chest and across her pelvis.

Therese’s nostrils flared a bit and tears jumped behind her eyelids; she recognized the gesture immediately. Doors were shutting and locking from the inside. Barriers were being erected. Carol’s eyes dimmed from blue to grey. It was like the subtle beginnings of a harsh winter approaching.

Therese sat up quickly in bed, shaking her head. She suddenly felt cold, numb. She had broken every promise she made to herself before she came back here, and for what? To be loved, and needed, but then shut out? She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t feel indifferent around Carol. If Carol wanted her, she had to be allowed to have Carol in return. She was foolish to think that any amount of time would change that simple fact. It certainly hadn’t changed Carol.

She stood up and pulled Carol’s robe from the side chair. She was already shivering, and she shrugged the robe over her shoulders and hugged her own arms to her chest.

Carol was watching her closely, but stayed silent. Therese was tiptoeing around the room while gathering her clothes, afraid she would miss if Carol actually decided to speak up. Therese shook her head again. Of course, Carol would say nothing. A wave of nausea passed through Therese and she placed both of her hands on the vanity to steady herself. She closed her eyes and hung her head, tried to wrestle her heart back into its cage.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and her head bolted upright, finding Carol’s eyes in the vanity mirror. Carol was standing behind her, naked. Therese shivered again, involuntarily.

“Darling, please. I’m sorry I flinched. It was reflexive.” Carol’s voice was low and warm - sincere.

Therese turned and sat gingerly on the edge of the vanity, wanting to see Carol’s eyes with no barrier between them.

Carol’s hand moved from her shoulder to cup her cheek. “I want you, Therese. And I want you to have me - all of me. I haven’t let- since you… I mean - It may take me time. I’m not the person I was.”

Therese stopped Carol’s musings by standing and placing her fingertips to Carol’s lips. “Are you rambling incoherently right now, Carol Aird?” Therese smirked, the dimples appearing on her cheeks helping melt the ice under Carol’s skin.

Carol leaned her face into Therese’s hand and let out a low chuckle. “It’s you. You dismantle me, Therese.”

Therese sighed. She knew Carol had that effect on _her_ , but it was strange to hear Carol say it. It was strange to hear Carol speak without poise - unscripted. She suddenly realized Carol was just being honest. Carol was no longer holding back the things she felt. She was finally, simply, and beautifully real.

“Did you mean the things you said to me last night, Carol?” Therese tried to keep her eyes clear. She released Carol’s cheek and clenched both of her fists at her sides. She was still afraid she would wake up at any moment, alone in her bed in D.C, realizing this was all a dream. If Carol had said it in a moment of passion, and remorse, that was one thing. But to hear her say it again, in the light of day, with nothing between them but…

“I love you.”

“Say it again.” Therese’s bottom lip was quivering.

“I love you. I will always love you. I have never, ever stopped loving you.” Carol paused, her words clearly having the intended impact, as Therese broke eye contact to look at the floor. Carol cupped her chin and drew Therese’s eyes back to her own. “Be with me, Therese.”

Therese could only nod, pulse quickening. Her stomach welled up into her throat, as a warm, taut shockwave invaded her center, causing her clit to throb. She marveled again at what Carol could do to her body using only words.

Therese wiped the tears from both of their cheeks with her thumb, then traced it across Carol’s lip. She took a moment to breathe, then grabbed Carol’s hand and led her back towards the bed. She pressed the taller woman into the bed and covered her entire body with her own.

If Carol could have anticipated this moment she would have thought she’d be nervous, full of anticipation, full of fear. But she felt nothing but warmth.

Therese’s mouth moved like lightning across Carol’s chest, her tongue seemingly everywhere at once, her fingers tracing deft lines down to Carol’s center. Carol closed her eyes and opened herself instead. Therese began moving inside her and Carol gulped, her body reacting viscerally to being reunited with what it had lost. Therese’s fingers inside of her were like a tonic, like a missing key slotting into place.

When Therese’s warm tongue found Carol’s clit, silent tears streamed down Carol’s face. She began to feel herself build, and a strangled whimper fell from her lips. It had been a long time - too long. Her body started to tremble and she held onto Therese with both hands, tangling long fingers in the younger woman’s hair.

Carol felt every muscle in her body begin to tighten and quiver. This time, instead of shutting it down and running from it, she used her strong hands to pull Therese even closer - every inch of her craving Therese’s probing tongue. Therese hummed into her center with appreciation and Carol felt her heart clench and begin to soften. Moments later, with a low, unrestrained moan, Carol finally let go.

~***~

They were tangled together, Carol’s leg draped casually over Therese’s thigh. The comfortable ease they had shared years ago never dissipated. They both slept best in each other’s arms. Carol woke first this time, and she smiled when she felt an arm gripping firmly around her waist.

She allowed herself a moment to simply be, to exist as she was, with Therese’s hair tickling her cheek. She allowed herself to marvel at the fact that she had found someone she could sleep next to without fear, without resentment. She never thought she could feel safe or open enough to allow someone to hold her through the night - that was the most intimate thing she could possibly imagine. All of the ice that had encased her heart melted and shattered in that one warm moment the night before, when she had finally let Therese back in… when she had finally let herself go.

When Carol opened her eyes again, Therese was awake. The younger woman flashed her a smile. Her dimples stood out even more now on her thinner face, and Carol felt her heart clench again.

“What happened to Squirmy Carol?” Therese’s voice was low, still clouded with sleep.

“What?” Carol chuckled.

“Squirmy Carol. Sometimes you would fall asleep tangled up with me, but you never let me hold you through the night. You would always squirm away. It would wake me every time, losing contact with you.”

“I told you,” Carl said, her voice even. “I’m not the person I used to be.”

Therese released Carol’s waist and propped herself up on one elbow. She peered down at Carol and her lip curled into a smirk. “I know you said that, but I didn’t know you meant it in a _good_ way.” She wiped a few strands of stray blonde hair off Carol’s forehead.

“Why do I sense that this is going to turn into a lecture, but this time you’re the professor?” Carol winked and brought her hand up to cradle Therese’s face, wiping a thumb across her lips.

Therese didn’t laugh. “Carol. I don’t even know how to begin to understand what you have gone through.” Her voice cracked a little towards the end. “More importantly, I want to understand your future - not your past. But that starts with where you are now, Carol… that starts with you, as you are now.”

Carol could read through the lines perfectly, but she didn’t know what the ramifications of that subtext would be. She felt completely stripped bare at that moment. Therese now had to look at the remnants of a person that Carol was, and decide whether or not to flee in the opposite direction.

“I see what I’ve become, Therese. You don’t have to mince words with me.” Therese started to speak but Carol stopped her. “Who I am now is the result of the choices I’ve made. I’ve come to terms with all of them, and with all that they have cost me. All except one.”

Therese was silent for a moment. She didn’t know if she should pry. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear which choice Carol hadn’t yet come to terms with. But she knew that Carol was wracked with guilt about Rindy’s accident. “Rindy?” Therese summed it all up in one word, one question.

“No,” Carol said. She was unwavering. “Since before she even came out of me, I have done everything based on what I thought would be best for that girl.” She took a deep breath, trying to remind herself of the truth in her own words. “I don’t know many other things in life with the same certainty as I know that.”

“You’re an amazing mother, Carol. But you have to know that you sacrificed so much of your own happiness for her, so much of your own life. She’s an incredible person already. She’s strong -  and she’s grown enough that she can allow you to take some time to care for your own needs. In fact, she’s worried sick about you. She knows you’re not well, Carol.”

“She knows everything,” Carol said. They both laughed. “I’m serious, Therese. That girl can read me like a book. She knows me better than anyone.”

“Not anyone.” Therese stated, the laughter gone from her voice.

“No…” Carol trailed off, losing eye contact.

When she brought her eyes back up, their resolute clarity was back.“Therese, I should’ve come.”

“What?” Therese’s brain was struggling for context, still reeling from their brief talk about Rindy.

“The day after you left that box on my porch. I should’ve come to D.C _that day._ ” Therese’s eyes narrowed as she took in the shift in tone. Carol’s voice was suddenly softer. “And every day after that...I should’ve come every day after that. I allowed the inertia of my inaction to paralyze me, and it cost me everything.”

Therese put a reassuring hand on Carol’s cheek. “I’m the one who left, Carol. You can’t blame yourself for everything. I ran away. Don’t you see that I’ve paid a price for my choices too?”

“I know you have.” Carol’s voice was resolute again. “Which is why I can’t ask you to come back. I couldn’t ask that of anyone. Because of what’s going on with Rindy, but also because of what’s going on with me. I’m a mess, Therese. I can’t ask you to be a part of this. In fact, I can’t blame you if your instinct is to run out of this apartment screaming.”

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me after the things you’ve said. Don’t reel me in and then spit me back out. At this point in the game, if you push me away and go back into your shell you’ll piss me off - but you won’t lose me.”

She paused for a moment of emphasis, and to allow Carol’s straying eyes to refocus. “I’m yours, Carol. This isn’t something I can chose or not chose. It just is. You keep saying that your choices cost you everything - but they haven’t cost you me.”

Carol’s voice was barely above a whisper. “No?”

“No, Carol. I’m here, aren’t I? Do I strike you as the kind of girl who flies in from out of town for a weekend fling? It wasn’t my intention when I came here to end up in your bed, but now that I’m here, I’m struggling to remember how I ever left.”

Carol allowed her mind to process the words, warming her from the inside out as they settled into her memory. “Well then. That’s that.”  

~***~

Both women had closed their eyes again and drifted off. They were startled by a brisk knock at the door and Carol snapped her head up, colliding into Therese’s chin.

“Ouch!” Therese cried out.

“Sorry!” Carol was immediately alert. “I’m sorry, my angel. I’m on anxiety overdrive these days. A knock at the door, a car horn in the park. Anything just… sets me off.”

Therese kissed her forehead then untangled herself to look for a robe.

“What are you doing?” Carol asked. “Just ignore it, they’ll go away. Get your cute butt back in bed.”

“You just woke up but they’ve been knocking for a while. Just stay here, and stay naked, and I’ll go answer it.” Therese’s dimples popped as she flashed Carol a grin before sneaking out the door.  

Therese recognized Abby’s voice as she walked closer to the door. “Carol, I swear to god if you don’t answer and let us know you’re ok…” Therese swung the door open to reveal Abby, Gen, and Rindy in the hallway.

“Oh _you’re_ still here.” Gen spoke up from behind Abby. “Well, that would explain Carol not answering her phone.”

If looks could kill, the one Abby shot Gen would’ve struck her down instantly. “What?” Gen exclaimed. “Rindy is fully abreast of the situation here, Abby. Pun intended.”

Rindy just looked at Therese and rolled her eyes. Therese turned bright crimson and avoided eye contact with Abby and Gen as they filed past her into the living room.

Carol appeared from around the corner, her robe secured lightly, hair sticking out in weird angles. Therese shook her head. Carol didn’t even have to make an effort to appear like a sex-drunk goddess. This was literally how she looked when she woke up.

“Hey mom.” Rindy was so nonchalant about the situation that everyone seemed immediately put at ease.

“Hey, snowflake. Did you have a good weekend?” Carol walked up to her daughter and kneeled in front of her chair to place a kiss on her cheek. Rindy nodded. Carol leaned closer to and whispered in her ear. “Do you remember that thing we talked about before, when I asked if you would consider if…”

“I remember mom,” Rindy cut her off. “And of course my answer is still yes. Did you ask her?”

“Not yet.” Carol winked at her daughter. “Soon.”

Rindy turned her chair around and started towards her bedroom. “You better be serious about the soon part, you’re not getting any younger.” She disappeared and closed her door behind her.

Gen laughed, a little too loudly, and then clasped her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what she was talking about, but that little girl is quickly becoming one of my favorite people,” she said.

Carol laughed and guided the three women into the kitchen. “Thanks for watching her, Abby. She thinks she’s ready to be on  her own, and ordinarily I’d agree with her. But she can’t be alone now, not since the accident.”

“Don’t you say another word about it. We love having her. Rita thinks she’s a superhero.” Abby made herself at home in the kitchen and started making coffee.

“Ladies!” Gen piped up. “I happen to know this look on _both_ of your faces. You’ve made up. Or something in that… neighborhood.”  

“Oh my god.” Therese whispered. “This is mortifying.

“Don’t be mortified!” Gen exclaimed. “I’m so fucking happy for you two. I’m so happy you’re still here, Therese. Joking aside. I’m so relieved.”

“Thanks.” Therese’s voice came out even lower still.

“How long will you be here, Therese?” Abby asked gingerly. She knew it wasn’t exactly her place to intrude, but she also wanted to help Carol make plans for Rindy if she and Therese needed more space.

“I’m not sure,” Therese said. She didn’t want to elaborate.  

Abby shot Carol a harsh glare, silently imploring her not to make more disastrously bad decisions in this opportune moment.

Carol poured herself a cup of coffee and then met the eager eyes of her friends. “Actually, I think Therese _should_ go back to D.C.”

The whole room got smaller. Abby stared at Carol with her mouth agape, and Gen looked down at her coffee cup.

The walls seemed to loom dangerously close to Therese as Carol’s words hit her ears. Her mind went white for a moment and she closed her eyes, trying to block the memories of Carol from spilling out. She grabbed the countertop and set her coffee cup too close to the edge.

“But,” Carol spoke again and all three heads popped back up. “I was wondering if…  perhaps you’d like me to come with you?”

Therese allowed herself to make eye contact with Carol and as soon as they did, tears started to fall. “Yes,” she said, breathlessly. “Yes, I would.”


	31. Winter's End

**Chapter 31: Winter’s End**

 

**_December, 2017: New York City_ **

 

> _“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”_
> 
> _~ When Harry Met Sally_

 

~***~

“Carol, are you sure?” Therese was picking at the skin around her fingernails, her head hung low. “I mean, I just wasn’t expecting this. I guess I don’t know what to say.”

Gen cleared her throat, forcing Abby to tear her eyes away from Carol. “Abby, we should go,” she said.

“You’re right,” Abby whispered. Therese continued staring at the ground and Carol said nothing, as Gen slinked out of the kitchen. Abby went to Carol and embraced her, whispering in her ear. “I’m proud of you, Carol.” She gave the blonde a quick kiss to her cheek. “And you know Rindy is welcome anytime.” She didn’t wait for a reply, picking up her pace to meet Gen by the door.

When the door closed behind her friends, Carol suddenly felt vulnerable. She knew she shouldn’t have brought this up when they were here, but she couldn’t wait. She didn’t want Therese to think this was just a fling. She couldn’t bear the thought of Therese leaving her apartment, but she also wanted Therese to know she was willing to make sacrifices to be with her. She didn’t know how much of her plan and forethought to reveal, and she had started to try out different phrases in her head when Therese broke the silence.

“Carol, the apartment I just moved to in D.C. is worse than the place I had here. I’m flattered that you want to come visit, I just - I’m embarrassed, to be honest.” Therese kept her head down, never meeting Carol’s eyes.

Carol came around the kitchen counter and brought her hand under Therese’s chin, lifting until Therese met her gaze. “Why did you move? I thought you were living with Dannie’s cousin?”

Therese’s eyes widened and her cheeks blushed. “It’s… Oh, Carol.”

“It’s ok, darling. You can tell me.” Carol’s voice was soft.

“I became involved with her,” Therese whispered. “It was… stupid. I was vulnerable, and broken, and she was… she was always there. I didn’t ever want, I mean, I didn’t feel - “

Carol put a finger to the younger woman’s lips, cutting her off. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Therese. I understand.”

“Do you?” Therese asked, her eyes now boldly meeting Carol’s probing stare.

“I do.” This time Carol broke the eye contact and lowered her hand from Therese’s face. “Gen and I, we…”

“I know.” Therese interjected.

“What - how?” Carol was flustered.

“I heard Gen say something. It doesn’t matter, Carol. I understand, too.”

Carol nodded solemnly.

Therese hesitated, but she had to know. “Are you still sleeping with her?”

“No!” Carol’s response came quickly, and loudly. “It was only a few times. I was... trying to feel something. I was trying to erase you from my brain. I tried so many things. They obviously didn’t work.”

The push and pull of their questioning left both women feeling nauseous, a palpable chill rising in the air. “What about you?” Carol inquired.

“What about me?” Therese asked. She was confused and flustered. Half of her brain was still trying to process Carol’s question about coming to D.C.

“Are you still seeing… Dannie’s cousin?”

“It’s Jade,” Therese offered. “And no. That’s why I moved out. It wasn’t right. I never loved her, Carol. I never stopped loving you. I spent three years living like a zombie without you.”  

Carol exhaled audibly, unable to hide her relief.

Therese put her hands behind her on the counter and lifted herself to sit atop it. Carol instinctively moved closer and placed one hand on either side of Therese. The younger woman was now taller, and she was looking down at Carol.

“What do we do now?” Therese asked.

Carol put a hand on the younger woman’s cheek and smiled brightly. “What makes you think I have all the answers, darling? I fucked up not once but twice, the second time being a lengthy fuckup - it lasted three years.”

Both women chuckled then shared a moment of silence. Carol threaded her fingers through the brunette’s hair. 

“My job, Carol. I really love it. I do, and I - ”

“Yes, about that.” Carol interrupted. Therese pulled away slightly from Carol’s hands, and Carol realized she was scared - scared of being demeaned again. “Jesus,” Carol whispered. “There were moments when I said things to you that were so completely abysmal. I was horrible.” She dropped her hand from the younger woman’s face and shook her head. “I told you I hated Journalism and thought it was beneath you because I didn’t want to lose you. And I also didn’t want you to stop writing. I still harbor immense guilt for that, you know. I’m so sorry for what I did to taint your incredible talent, or ruin it, as you claim. The moment you started taking that Journalism class I felt you start to slip away.”

“You were barely there to hold on to, Carol! What was I supposed to do to keep from sliding away if I was being pushed?” The clarity and sharp edge of Therese’s reply shocked them both.

“I know.” Carol said softly. She had no further words to offer. She had nothing to quell the pain she had caused, which was rising to the surface again with their words.

“I should have fought you, Carol.”

Carol’s eyes shot back up. “What do you mean?”

“I should’ve fought you. I should’ve told you what I felt and what I needed. That time we made love in my kitchen, and you told me I disappointed you. I should’ve spoken up then, before it got messy... but I didn’t. And then I just left.”

“Actually, you should’ve slapped me then.” Carol offered, her voice meek but edged with disdain. Therese laughed. “No, I’m serious, Therese. I said awful things to you about this career you’ve chosen. How could I expect you to believe me now when I tell you that I’m so proud of you?”

“What? Proud of what?” Therese still felt like her brain was moving slowly, as if plodding through mud. “I haven’t written anything since before I left New York.”

“Of course you have, silly.” Carol’s tone was smooth again, the sultry natural edge back in her voice. “I’ve read your articles. I’d say you’re a talented writer, but you’ve heard that one before.” She gave her characteristic wink, and Therese felt her heart clench.

“You read my articles? Which ones?” Therese was legitimately shocked. She was still operating under the impression that Carol was ashamed of the work she was doing.

“All of them, my love.”

Therese’s brow crinkled and she felt tears well behind her eyes. She didn’t want to let them fall though, not now. She didn’t want anything to halt this conversation that seemed like a dream.

Carol sensed Therese’s silence and forced her back into eye contact with a now-familiar gesture, a soft hand under Therese’s chin. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you want to go into the living room, get more comfortable?”

“I still feel so much trepidation with everything you say. I still can’t believe you’re real.” Therese’s voice was shaky. Carol placed one hand on either of the younger woman’s hips and helped her slide gently off the countertop.

They went into the living room and Carol started the fire. Therese tried to take deep, calming breaths. She still had no idea exactly what Carol wanted, or what she was going to say. She felt like a fish out of water. She reached for a blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it around herself, tucking in all the corners to keep out the cold air. When Carol walked back from the fireplace, Therese lifted a corner of the blanket to allow Carol to curl up next to her, then replaced the blanket over them both.

Carol didn’t hesitate. She was done with that. She wanted to remove hesitation from any interactions she had with Therese, from this moment forward. “Therese, when I said I wanted to go to D.C with you, I don’t think you understood what I meant.”

“Ok,” Therese said. “What did you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m being too forward. At any point you can tell me to fuck off - you know that, right?” Carol adjusted herself on the couch so she could look Therese in the eye.

Therese blinked rapidly. “I don’t see myself saying that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I’ve applied for and been granted a faculty position at Georgetown.” Carol watched Therese’s eyes widen as she took in the meaning of the words. She continued cautiously. “I spoke with Rindy, and well - I’m saying she and I could move there, Therese. If that’s something you would want…. only if it’s what you want.”

Therese felt chilled despite the fire rapidly warming the room. Her mind was churning and she knew she needed to come up with a response quickly this time, something that would express her incomprehensible gratitude.

“Of course that’s what I want.” Therese’s voice was surprisingly even. Both women seemed to have struck hesitation out of their emotional repertoire.

Carol beamed at her. “You’re sure?” She asked.

“Absolutely,” Therese replied, her cheeks flushing rapidly. “You’re all I want, Carol. But I can’t let you do it.”

“What?” Carol sat up suddenly, pulling slightly away from the younger woman so she could face her completely. “If it’s what you want… I don’t understand.”

“Carol, you’re a brilliant writer and a beloved teacher. Columbia is a better program than Georgetown, you can’t just walk away from the legacy you’ve created here.”

Carol’s eyes narrowed and Therese sensed a familiar anger welling up in the older woman. “Therese, I would walk away from writing altogether if I had to. I’ll walk away from Columbia in a heartbeat. I’m just never going to walk away from _you -_ not again. Not now.”

Therese squirmed a bit, her eyes dropping again.

Carol continued to push her. “Your career is developing, and it’s more important than mine right now. I can write from anywhere, and students are students no matter where you teach.” She reached out to touch Therese’s cheek. “I’ve already had my once in a lifetime student.”

Therese raised her head again to meet Carol’s eyes. Carol wiped a rogue tear from the young woman’s cheek. “What about Rindy?” Therese asked. “Are you sure she would be ok with leaving her home, her friends?”

“Oh, she’s ecstatic.” Carol said. “I think she understands the importance of new beginnings after what this past year has been. I think she relishes the idea of starting fresh.” Carol smiled as she thought of her beautiful daughter and how supportive and understanding she had been when Carol first brought up the idea.

Therese smiled, offering Carol a brief snapshot of her dimples. “That girl is so strong, Carol. And so bright.”

“And sarcastic as fuck,” Carol added. Therese laughed out loud.

“Seriously, though, darling.” Carol continued, her tone slightly more cautious. “I want you to understand. I do have baggage with her. What she’s going through isn’t easy. _She’s_ not easy. I understand if this isn’t something you want to take on, but we’re sort of a package deal.”

It was Therese’s turn to put a hand to Carol’s face to steady and center her. “Carol, I love that little girl. Although, ‘little’ may not be the right word anymore. Of course I want her in our lives. She’s a part of you. When I said I want you, I meant I want all of you.”

Carol couldn’t stop herself; she leaned forward and starting kissing Therese’s face. She peppered kisses across her brow, on her nose, against the corner of her mouth; absorbing Therese’s tears against her lips. “I want all of _you_ … right now,” she sighed, her voice hot against Therese’s mouth.

“Ok, stop kissing for a second - does this mean we get to move or not? I couldn’t tell at the end with all the whispering.” Rindy appeared in the corner of the room as if by apparition, causing both women to jump apart.

“Rindy, you’re too sneaky for your own good!” Carol’s voice was playful. “We really need to put a bell on that wheelchair. Therese, grab a post-it and write this down, you know I can never remember any of my good ideas.”

Therese laughed.

“Yes, snowflake.” Carol’s tone softened instantly. “We get to move.”

Rindy clapped her hands. “This is excellent news, although I can’t say I’m surprised.” Therese hid her face behind the blanket to chuckle. “I’m going to go pack, you two go ahead and get back to… whatever you were doing.” Therese blushed fiercely and covered her entire head with the blanket.

Carol laughed the deep, throaty laugh that Therese had missed so much. Rindy turned her chair to head back towards her bedroom but stopped at the doorway. “Therese?” She said.

Therese uncovered her face and looked sincerely at the girl. “What is it, Rindy?”

“Thank you.” Rindy said. “For keeping your promise.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Therese was overcome with love seemingly hugging her from all sides.

“I know I don’t have to,” Rindy said, as she wheeled away, closing her bedroom door behind her.

“What was that all about?” Carol asked.

“It was a private conversation between myself and Rindy,” Therese said, a fake air in her voice.

Carol leaned towards her again, but this time she put her lips to Therese’s immediately and pressed firmly, snaking her tongue inside her mouth, warming Therese from within. She broke the kiss briefly to rest their foreheads together. “I love you, Therese.”

“I love you too, Carol.” Therese brought her lips back to Carol’s, feeling the pull of her like a magnet. “Take me to bed.”

~***~

 

**_February, 2018: Washington, D.C._ **

 

 

> _“I wonder if this is how people always get close: they heal each other’s wounds, they repair the broken skin.”_
> 
> _~ Lauren Oliver_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Sometimes she freezes, in life, in love, and she needs warm hands to thaw her heart.”_
> 
> _~Aston Gardner_

~***~

 

Carol watched Therese descend the stairs into the den, the younger woman’s robe coming slightly undone at the side, exposing a hip to view. She carried a mug of hot tea in one hand, and she smiled when she saw Carol’s face.

“I started the fire,” Carol said. “It’s bloody freezing outside. I thought you said D.C was warmer than New York this time of year.”

Therese beamed at her. She set her tea cup down on the coffee table and turned her back to Carol to warm her hands by the fire. Carol couldn’t help but be drawn to her - the exposed skin on Therese’s hip was like a calling card.

“I may have told a few little white lies,” Therese said, her dimples blossoming. “I didn’t want anything to prevent you from coming here.”

Carol moved behind the brunette and wrapped her arms casually around her waist, careful to let her thumb trace over Therese’s hipbone where her robe had come undone. The younger woman flinched at her touch.

“I don’t think anything would have prevented me from coming, darling.” Therese blushed brightly at the comment, and Carol snickered.

“Your hands are freezing,” Therese whispered, shivering at the contact.

Carol snaked her arm around Therese’s stomach and hooked a finger into her robe’s belt loop. She pulled on it gently, spinning Therese around to face her.

“I can think of a few ways we can warm them up,” Carol whispered. She slid both hands lightly across Therese’s abdomen under her robe; ghosting her fingers across the younger woman’s ribs and leaving goosebumps in her wake.

Therese shuddered when cold fingers found her spine and continued traveling lightly to the crease of her buttocks. She was already flooded with heat, her nipples straining against the fabric of the robe, her clit aching and chafing against the confines of her underwear.

Carol was barely touching her, but Therese let out a whimper with anticipation of what was to come. Carol was never rushed. Carol would be content to watch her squirm. Therese reached behind her back to meet one of Carol’s hands and moved it to cup her center over her panties. Carol’s eyes widened at the forward gesture; she cracked a smile as her hand warmed instantly against Therese’s cunt.

“I can feel you,” Carol whispered, closing her eyes tightly. “I can feel how wet you are, and I’ve barely touched you.” She exhaled warm, moist air against Therese’s neck as she spoke.

“I know,” Therese said. She was trying to refrain from grinding her pelvis down into Carol’s waiting hand. “Sometimes you don’t even need to touch me,” she said, her hips starting to squirm as Carol held her hand painfully still, lightly cupping her.

Therese didn’t have time to process much more, because Carol’s other hand came up and grasped her breast under the robe. Therese glanced down in time to see her nipple harden under Carol’s fingertips, her body visibly betraying the depth of her need.

“Sometimes all you need to do is look at me,” Therese whimpered, trying desperately to lean her body in different directions to meet more of Carol’s chilled hands.

Carol’s hand started to move slowly, she dipped a single finger into the hem of Therese’s panties. “And what way do I look at you, Therese?”

Therese gasped as she felt Carol’s chilled fingers tease at the curls beneath her underwear. “The way you looked at me, just now, when I came down the stairs.” She barely got the words out, ending in a breathless, choked sigh.

Carol was beaming at her, marveling at the young woman crumbling to her ministrations. She was slightly concerned that Therese could discern these “looks”. She liked to move about the world with a bit of secrecy, but now...now Therese had her tell. “What do I look like, when I’m looking at you that way?” Carol prodded.

The hand on Therese’s breast wandered over to bring her other nipple to attention. Therese jumped again at the contact. Jesus, how were this woman’s hands still so cold? Therese thought her entire body may burst into flames at any moment. Fine. Two can play this game, she thought. Sometimes it wasn’t hands, lips, or tongue that turned Carol on the most. Sometimes, it was words.

“There’s a look you have when you think I don’t see you watching me,” Therese stated, her mind now fully clear and her focus on Carol’s blue eyes - which had started to fog over the moment her hand met Therese’s wetness.

Carol hummed her appreciation, then turned Therese back around to face the fire, again using only her belt loops as a guide. She used her hand on Therese’s chest to pull the shorter woman back into her, the tips of Therese’s shoulder blades coming to rest firmly against Carol’s breasts.

Therese felt Carol’s breasts pressing into her back - a keen pressure, a hand on the knob, threatening to break down her door.  “Sometimes, you’ll be watching me work.” She slid a hand up to cradle Carol’s neck. “You bite the left corner of your lower lip. It’s subtle, but I know what it means.”

Carol removed her hand from Therese’s panties and cupped each of her breasts, then applied more pressure, kneading them. Therese’s eyes remained open and clear, as Carol watched her reflection in the glass panes of the fireplace. “What does it mean, Therese?”

“It means you want to fuck me.”

All of the chill left Carol’s body in a wave. Therese smiled as she felt Carol’s hands start to sweat against her chest. “Are your hands warm enough now?” She asked.

“No.” Carol said, simply. Her calm voice was betraying her heart, which was beating like a chased rabbit’s.

Therese laughed. She guided one of Carol’s hands back to her stomach, then used Carol’s hand to push the underwear down her thighs. “I know what you need, Carol.” Her voice was a whisper, and she tried to watch Carol’s face in the reflection, but she couldn’t see clearly enough. She turned back to face Carol and let the robe drop to the floor; finished stepping out of her panties.

Carol allowed herself to shamelessly ogle the young woman standing in front of her, and she loosened her own robe instinctively. Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught herself nibbling the left corner of her lower lip. Therese was grinning from ear to ear.

“I guess you’re right, darling,” Carol said. “Because there can be no mistaking what I want right now.”

Therese put a hand to Carol’s cheek and then with nimble fingers she released Carol’s robe tie and watched it flow to the ground with the rest of their clothing. Carol was still clad in black lace underwear, and Therese ran her finger along all of the seams, drawing tight breaths from the taller blonde, before finally pushing them down Carol’s legs so she could step out of them.

When Carol looked back up, her blue eyes were pitch black. “I want you, Therese.” Her voice was slotted several pitches lower than normal. “I’m so hungry for you I can’t see straight.”

Therese surveyed the rug in front of the fireplace. Then she surveyed Carol. She grasped Carol’s hand and brought it to her wet center again, this time unimpeded by pesky clothing. She took a step closer toward Carol, until their noses touched. “Didn’t you say you wanted to warm your hands?” She whispered against Carol’s cheek.

“Yes,” Carol whimpered, her hand starting to move, gathering moisture, placing teasing circles of pressure just inches from where Therese needed her.

“Then put your fingers inside me.” Therese’s voice was clear, direct.

Carol moved her head slightly and captured Therese’s bottom lip in a soft kiss. She held contact, nose to nose, as she slid a cautious finger into wet folds. It was Carol who shivered and gasped into Therese’s mouth as she felt warm walls envelop her.

“You’re so warm,” Carol said, her voice again finding its legs. She pulled her face away from Therese’s so she could watch her. The brunette just nodded, speech being next to impossible with Carol moving inside her.

“And you’re so wet,” Carol continued, sliding another finger inside. Therese nodded again. “And tight… ” Carol’s words were causing Therese to build quickly and she forced her eyes open, desperate to prolong their encounter.

Carol saw the change in Therese’s eyes. She pulled her fingers out slowly and placed a chaste kiss to the younger woman’s lips. “Lie down, sweetheart,” she said. Her voice was soft and seductive, betraying her steely eyes.

Before Therese could adjust herself on the rug near the fire, Carol’s body was already on her again. Carol kissed her forcefully this time, her tongue raking across Therese's lower lip then exploring the rest of her mouth. Therese allowed herself to close her eyes again and bask in the ministrations. This time she didn’t shiver or jump when Carol’s hand met her center, two strong fingers pressing up against her front wall, causing her warmth to spill and pool into Carol’s palm.

Carol continued kissing Therese, but kissing wouldn’t be what Therese would call it. Carol was worshipping Therese with her tongue - leaving trails of hot, wet want down the side of her cheek, a path of exploration leading to where she was now, caressing the brunette’s earlobe with a light tip of her tongue and continuing to move a strong hand deep inside her.

Therese started to feel her body softening, becoming pliable, and a tight gasp escaped her lips.

“What is it?” Carol asked, not stopping the movement of her hand.

“I need more.” Therese was gasping now, reaching for Carol’s face.  

Carol grinned and started to kiss her way down Therese’s chest, but the younger woman stopped her descent.

“No, stay here. Stay here and put your mouth on mine.”

“Gladly,” Carol whispered. She put her forehead against the brunettes and began her cycle again; soft, eager lips yielding to probing tongues.

“More… I mean… harder. Carol... Please.”

Carol’s eyes snapped open. It was unlike Therese to give instruction, but she was incredibly aroused by it. She sped up the pace of her fingers and felt Therese clench around them.

“Yes,” Therese cried out, her back arching a little.

“That’s good, darling.” Carol tried to coax her out of her shell just a bit more. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fff. Fuck me.” Therese’s voice was so innocent, it made Carol wet to hear it mingled with those words.

“I am, darling.” Carol’s voice was like honey dripping into Therese’s ear. “Can’t you feel me?”

“I feel you everywhere.” This time the brunette’s response was more lucid, eyes fluttering open and shut as Carol continued her ministrations.

Carol propped herself on an elbow to allow her other hand to caress Therese’s breast. She took the nipple into her mouth and sucked gently, and she felt Therese clamp down on her.  She slightly changed the angle of her hand so her palm would strike Therese’s clit with each push.

“Mmm. more. Carol.” Carol was grinning against Therese’s breast now, Therese was never this vocal. “Please don’t stop,” the younger woman begged.

Carol released the nipple with a loud pop and brought her face back up inches from Therese. Her strong hand again picked up speed, moving into a gear she had rarely ever used with Therese.

“Darling, don’t you want to know what _I_ want?” Carol’s lips were pressed against Therese and the younger woman swallowed her question with her breath.

“Tell me, Carol. Tell me what you want.”

Carol was proud of Therese’s clarity. “I want you to come for me, my love.”

Therese’s eyes fluttered shut at the words and she felt Carol’s mouth reclaim her own. She allowed the pressure to build behind Carol’s fingers, to draw strength and energy from them both. Her body seemed to lift from the floor until she could feel no points of contact except where Carol’s skin met her own.

Therese felt a rumbling growl begin low in her chest and she started to hum. Carol’s tongue danced against her own, and Carol’s mouth swallowed her scream as she crumbled -  in glorious, shattering, whimpering cries.

Both women were gasping, rendered speechless for a moment. Carol glanced her wet fingers up Therese's tight abdomen to her breasts, leaving the younger woman’s nipples coated in her own moisture. She laid her head against Therese’s chest. “I can’t believe you know my tell,” she whispered.

Therese just smiled.

~***~

 

**_Late March, 2018: Washington, D.C._ **

 

>  
> 
> _“Everything has changed, and yet I'm more me than I've ever been.”_
> 
> _~ Iain Thomas_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Life is unpredictable_
> 
> _It changes with the seasons_
> 
> _Even your coldest winter_
> 
> _Happens for the best of reasons_
> 
> _And though it feels eternal_
> 
> _Like all you’ll ever do is freeze_
> 
> _I promise spring is coming_
> 
> _And with it, brand new leaves”_
> 
> _~Erin Hanson_

~***~

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom as Therese and Carol sat on a blanket on the lawn of the National Mall, eating lunch and watching Rindy work with her therapist. It seemed everyone in D.C. was enjoying time outdoors after the particularly harsh winter. Rindy could now walk short distances with the use of forearm crutches, and her legs continued to get stronger every day.

“Jesus, will you look at the arm muscles on that girl,” Therese said, as Rindy practiced pushing herself up from her wheelchair to standing position. “I’m so proud of her. That bit she just did was the farthest she’s ever walked, I think.”

“I know,” Carol said. “She makes me feel like I need to start working out.” They both laughed.

Therese reached into her bag and pulled out a plain brown folder. Carol was distracted watching Rindy, so Therese rested it on her lap and took a moment to observe Carol while she wasn’t looking. She never thought it would be possible to be as happy as she was in this very moment. She never thought it possible to be this much in love.

Carol’s eyes wandered down and caught a glimpse of the folder in Therese’s lap. “What’s that?” She asked. Her tone slipped into a slightly melancholic timbre, and she shook her head, as if physically burdened by her own memories. “It reminds me of the first brown folder I ever received from you. I fell in love with your words before I even knew your face.”

“It’s just something I’ve been working on,” Therese said, her eyes fixed on Carol’s.

“Since when do you put your work on paper? I thought you’d completely transitioned your articles to the computer, like a proper journalist living in 2018.” Carol winked at her.

“This isn’t for work,” Therese said, handing Carol the folder. “It’s for you.”

Carol’s eyes squinted, a puzzled look crossing her face. She opened the folder and glanced at it’s contents briefly. When she closed the folder and looked back at Therese, there were tears in the corners of her eyes. “You’re writing,” she said.

“Yes.” Therese replied.

Carol paused. She felt a strong deja vu - an urge to run back to their apartment as fast as she could and lock herself away with Therese’s new work. She settled for simplicity. “I’m glad,” she said.

“Me too,” Therese whispered.

Carol moved closer to Therese and took a smaller hand in her own. She pulled a blanket over both of their shoulders and nuzzled her face into the younger woman’s neck as the first cherry blossoms began to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have been as moved by reading it as I have been by writing it. Thank you for all of your beautiful comments along the way ;) 
> 
> Thanks, yet again, to Pentimento - who graciously reads these chapters when they're still a mess, and specifically for help on some of the quotes in this chapter. You're the best ;) 
> 
> ~ CG


End file.
